


Burden

by riseofthefallenone



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Demisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Discrimination, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Not first person, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Scarred Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Supportive Sam Winchester, Switching, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, Wing Kink, Winged Castiel (Supernatural), all the things because SWITCH FOR LIFE, not marvel mutants but definitely inspired by, seriously there will be smut... eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 280,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseofthefallenone/pseuds/riseofthefallenone
Summary: Mutants are considered second class citizens, or worse. Discriminated against at every turn, mutants are marked and monitored byThe Registryand any deemed too dangerous are taken away toThe Facility. It’s no surprise that many try to hide or choose a more permanent way out if a mutation develops.Castiel’s parents hid his mutation and hid him away from the world. He’s grown up with the knowledge that the world will hate him, no matter what he does. If he leaves the house, he can only do it with a long, heavy coat that covers the most beautiful part of him.It takes a pair of brothers to help him really spread his wings andlive.Updates Every Second Thursday





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Thursday – November 2nd, 2017_ **

Castiel pulls his long beige overcoat on, shrugging and rolling his shoulders a few times to make sure it falls into place appropriately. There are full length mirrors mounted on both walls adjacent to the front door and he checks his reflection, using one mirror to look at himself in the other and ensure that nothing seems too _off_ about how the coat falls over his back.

“You look _fine_.” Anna sighs loudly from where she’s sitting at the bottom of the stairs that lead up from the foyer to the main floor of his house. Her elbows are resting on her knees, blocking in the bouquet of flowers across her lap. “Can we go yet?”

“You’re always in such a rush.” He grabs the shoehorn from off the banister where it turns to head down the short flight of stairs into the daylight basement. “I wonder if you would be more patient if you had to wait to get everyone like the rest of us.”

Her jaw drops and she sits back, hand coming up to cover a clearly fake gasp. “I can’t believe you would _say _that about me. And to my _face_!”

It’s all Castiel can do not to laugh at her scandalized expression. “I’ve said worse to your face.”

Anna crosses her arms and turns her head away, sniffling. “I should just leave without you.”

“You know you can’t stand being in a car without someone to talk to.” With his shoes finally on, Castiel takes the flowers from her and opens the door. “And technically, the taxi is waiting for _me_, not you.”

The only reason Anna is here right now is because she had picked up and brought Castiel the flowers he ordered. It saved him from being riddled with the anxiety of having to go into the store himself to get them. At least now he has someone to accompany him for the ride to the graveyard. Anna can be talkative when she wants to be, and taxi rides are when she talks the most. Castiel appreciates the distraction tactic. It means he can enjoy the ride without wondering if the driver is paying too much attention to him.

While he might never admit it, Castiel is forever grateful whenever she also holds his hand during taxi rides. They can be really uncomfortable for him, both physically and mentally, and that grounding touch has gotten him through those long drives in to _Lawrence_. The transit bus doesn’t come out this far because his house is a twenty minute drive from the outskirts of town. Even if it did, Castiel is _positive_ that he wouldn’t be able to take it on his own.

If it isn’t the uncomfortable seats on the bus, then it’s because of how many people can be crammed into one like sardines. What if someone bumped into him or pressed up against him _just enough_ to feel his _secret_? They could reveal him to the world and that would be the end of life as Castiel knows it.

God, even just thinking about it is enough to make him jittery.

Rarely is his aunt free to come and pick him up. That leaves a taxi as his only means of getting to _Oak Hill Cemetery_. And of_ course_ that has to be on the far edge of town. To get there, they have to either go through _Lawrence_ or around it. It’s at least a half hour drive there, then the same back here, and sometimes the stress of being out in public like this can be a little much.

Thankfully, Anna always tries her best to be with him when he takes a taxi – which is really only to the graveyard at the beginning of the month and the grocery store every other week. As much as she would like to be, sometimes she isn’t free to come with him to visit his parents. Her work hours are flexible, but she’s essentially on call at all times – if only because she’s the only employee the courier service has that can get anywhere in the city within a matter of a few minutes.

“Speaking of the taxi…” Anna rocks to her feet and follows him outside where the driver is waiting. They stop only to lock the door behind them. “Could you let me off at _Walmart_? Mom wants me to buy some groceries for dinner tonight. Will you be good for the rest of the ride?”

“I’ll be fine.” Castiel tries for what he hopes is an easy smile. On the inside, his stomach is already starting to twist in on itself. But he’s going to ignore it and tough through it because he is _not _a child. He is _thirty years old_ and he can take a damn taxi on his own without having a panic attack – as long as the driver doesn’t look at him too much. That might ramp his nerves up to eleven.

Anna’s smile is bright, but reassuring. “If you don’t think you can do it by the time we reach _Walmart_, let me know, okay? I’ll go with you all the way to the graveyard and can just blink to the nearest grocery from there.”

“Of course.” He pats her on the shoulder before opening the back door of the taxi so she can get in first. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m sure I’ll be alright.” She slides right over to the other side of the seat, leaving him space to get in too. Unlike Anna, who relaxes into the seat right away, Castiel remains sitting forward slightly, even after buckling himself in.

“Thank you for waiting.” He addresses the driver without looking up. “We need one drop off at the _Walmart_ on West 33rd Street, and the last stop will be _Oak Hill Cemetery_.”

Unfortunately, the driver isn’t even paying him any attention. His eyes are trained on Anna through the rear-view mirror. Castiel doesn’t need to be a telepath to know that he’s eyeing the _C-3_ circled in black ink on the side of her neck below her left ear. Anna is trying to act like she doesn’t notice, but he can tell that it’s bothering her.

Castiel clears his throat loudly, bolstering his courage. The driver’s attention snaps to him immediately. His smile is drawn and tight. “Yes, of course sir.”

“Thank you.”

Anna’s hand finds his as soon as the car shudders into motion. She squeezes it, the _thank you_ unspoken. Obviously this is going to be one of those drives where she _doesn’t_ chat with the driver.

Things would be so much easier if she could drive, but for people like Anna and Castiel, that’s not an easy thing to do. And it’s rather pointless for her anyways. She keeps saying she doesn’t want a license, but she’s twenty-four and Castiel knows that it bothers her that she’s the only courier for her company that doesn’t have one. But that’s the curse of being registered _and_ visibly marked.

On the bright side, Anna’s situation didn’t have any effect on her mother’s license. That was obtained long before Anna was born and it’s not like they would take it away after Anna presented. It did have an effect on their housing when they moved here, but Castiel tries not to think about all that. The way the world is biased against them just – it’s depressing. Disgusting and depressing and Castiel quickly cuts off that train of thought.

The taxi is quiet until they pull back onto the main road. Anna turns to him with an eyebrow quirked. “What do you want for dessert? I’ll pick it up while I’m getting the ingredients Mom wants.”

“My tastes are simple. Pick what you want.”

She laughs, though the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “If you say that, then I’ll be going home with a tub of butterscotch ripple ice cream.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is when I eat the whole thing _myself_.”

Castiel tilts his head to give her a squinty side-eye. “I thought you said this dessert was for _me_?”

“All bets are off when it comes to butterscotch ripple.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when we go grocery shopping next week.”

Anna exaggerates a gasp again, her friend hand coming up to press against her chest. “Are you saying that _you_, the great hermit of the South, is going to actually come _shopping_ with me this time?”

He refrains from wincing at the slight accusation in her tone. The last few grocery days, Castiel didn’t feel like leaving the house and she had to do it herself. “If you behave.”

“I _always_ behave.”

And that’s because she has to. Yearly evaluations at _The Registry_ and a monthly visit from her case worker require good behaviour. If she gives even a hint that she’s falling off the straight and narrow, the government could decide that she would be better off at _The Facility_. And if Anna went there… Castiel doesn’t want to think about it. There’s a lot of things that he doesn’t like thinking about, but he absolutely can’t stand even _considering_ the idea of Anna being gone from his life potentially forever.

Despite the side-eyes from the driver, Anna maintains a (falsely) cheery demeanor all the way to _Walmart_. She gives his hand an extra hard squeeze before getting out, and doesn’t thank the driver – even more of an indicator of how unhappy his staring made her. Castiel waves and forces himself to smile as the car pulls away, leaving Anna standing at the edge of the parking lot.

After that, he’s on his own for the rest of the ride. The driver glances at him a few times, but Castiel resolutely keeps his eyes out the window next to him. If he doesn’t think about the driver, then he doesn’t exist, and there’s nothing to be worried about. There’s no chance of his secret being revealed. His coat is bulky and shapeless and does a good job of hiding what he keeps under it.

When they pull up to the gates of _Oak Hill Cemetery_, the driver turns in his seat to look at Castiel over his shoulder. “This good or you want me to drive you through to where you wanna go?”

“Here is fine, thank you.” Castiel pulls his wallet out and hands over the required cash. Even though he doesn’t quite feel like leaving the tip, he still tells the driver to keep the change. He might remember Castiel if he stiffed him.

The gates of the cemetery close to visitors in about an hour. There are fewer visitors in the graveyard at this time, and the less people there are, the better. Castiel will have an hour to visit with his parents, and then his Aunt will pick him up at the gates and take him to her apartment. It will be a late dinner with her and Anna, but they’re used to it. Sometimes they’ll both come with him and stay for the visit, but that’s almost just as rare as his aunt picking him up.

Castiel makes his way along the paths twisting through the cemetery, heading to the back corner where his parents rest. While walking, he lets his mind drift to what his aunt might be making for dinner. It’s almost like eating out for him. A restaurant would be a nightmare for him, and nothing delivers out to where he lives. It’s a nice treat to have someone else make his meal.

There doesn’t appear to be anyone else around, so Castiel is comfortable enough to smile down at the flat stone imbedded in the grass where his parents are buried. “Hi Mom; Dad. How are you today?”

He kneels in front of the gravestone and places his bouquet of fresh flowers next to it. There’s a vase built into the center of the stone and he unscrews it, being careful not to drop any of the wilted flowers in it. “I’ll be right back.”

A garbage can is next to a tree at the side of the road and Castiel takes the flowers there to toss them. He dumps the water from the vase and refills it at a nearby tap. It overflows a bit once the new flowers are placed in it, but Castiel knows his parents wouldn’t mind.

“Nothing has happened since my last visit, really.” He takes a pair of scissors from his pocket and starts pruning the grass around the edge of the grave stone. “I won’t bore you with talk of politics and all the drama happening around the world. All you need to know is that what good people do is still always overshadowed by the bad.”

The groundskeepers here take great care of the graves and there isn’t a single weed to be seen. It’s obvious that the grass has been mowed recently, but Castiel prefers it to be cut very short around his parents’ gravestone.

“It’s been getting colder, but we probably won’t get snow until December.” Once everything looks perfect, Castiel sits crossed legged with the length of his coat tucked under him. “I miss snow. Remember that snowman we built that was taller than you, Dad? Maybe this year I’ll try to recreate it when Anna and Aunt Amara come over for Christmas.”

He reaches out and touches one of the lilies in the bouquet. “Next month I’ll bring those plastic flowers you like, Mom. They’ll have to do for the winter. When it warms up enough again, I promise that I’ll bring you some mums.”

Those were always his mother’s favourite flowers, but Castiel likes to mix it up. She’s not the only one down there, and Dad loved all flowers. He had so many different ones in his gardens. It’s hard to take care of them all on his own now, but Castiel works hard to keep them up to his standards. His dad taught him a lot while he was growing up and he thinks he’s doing a decent job with them now.

“Do you think sunflowers would do well in the garden? You never planted them, but I’d like to give it a try.” He leans back on his hands and looks up at the sky. It’s growing dark, but he still has another forty-five minutes at least before the caretaker will do their rounds before closing the gates. “The roses didn’t do as well this year. I’ll have to get Anna to buy me a soil test kit next year.”

Something rumbles in the distance and Castiel briefly wonders about thunder before it becomes clear that it’s a car engine. He glances over his shoulder, watching as a sleek black car rounds a bend and comes to a stop not too far away. Oh _great_. More visitors. Now he’s going to be distracted the whole time they’re here. It’s still way too early for him to message his aunt and ask her to come pick him up.

“I got a new manuscript file the other day.” Castiel forces himself to look away from the car as two men get out. He doesn’t want to be caught staring and have them keep an eye on him. “It’s _another_ romance, and the writing is – Well, I’m surprised they’re publishing it. I find it more harlequin than our usual fare. After this one, I’m going to tell them that I don’t want to edit romance anymore. If I have to read about _her heaving mounds glistening with sweat in the moonlight_ again, I might qui–”

Loud laughter interrupts him and Castiel can’t help looking back. A brief moment of self-consciousness sweeps over him at the mere thought that the laughter was because of something he said. That passes quickly at the realization that the pair of men walking away from the car are too far for them to hear him. He can hear them talking, but they’re not close enough for him to catch all the words – so the same should be said the other way around. Hopefully.

The man with long hair has a massive bouquet of flowers in one arm, and the man with short hair and a leather jacket is carrying a blanket. Between them they’re carrying a cooler – which means this isn’t going to be a short visit. Irritation briefly flickers under Castiel’s skin. He prefers his graveyard visits to be private and _quiet_ – but the man with short hair keeps laughing at whatever his companion keeps saying.

His heart almost stops in his chest when the man with long hair suddenly looks sharply to look at him. But instead of frowning for being stared at, he smiles and wiggles his fingers from where they’re clutching the flowers. It’s a wave. He’s _waving_. Does he recognize Castiel? No one should _recognize _him. The only two residents of this town that he knows by name are Anna and his aunt. He rarely has anything to do with anyone else and he barely even speaks to the cashiers when he’s grocery shopping with Anna.

Maybe he should go?

But then the man is turning away and continuing towards the stone wall that lines the boundaries of the cemetery. Castiel is still frozen in place, watching them despite knowing that it’s rude. They’re still close enough for the murmur of their voices to reach him, but it’s just part of the background noise of the graveyard now.

He watches them spread the blanket out in front of a large headstone. It almost looks like they’re going to have a picnic. They sit on opposite sides with the cooler between them and lie the flowers at the base of the gravestone. From the cooler they take out candles. Not food. _Candles_. They must be joking. You can’t light _candles_ here… Can you?

Should he say something? No, of course not. That would mean they would know his was watching. And that would mean _talking _to them, and Castiel is the epitome of non-confrontational – which is put to the test not more than a few moments later.

A couple containers of food are pulled from the cooler, and alongside them the man in the leather jacket pulls out a radio. Within moments, honest-to-God _music_ starts playing and it’s more than loud enough for Castiel to hear. It’s classic rock, if he’s not mistaken. He’s no expert on music, but he’s not complete trash at identifying it. His personal preference is generally instrumentals from all around the world. Anything else would distract him while he works.

It goes without saying that Castiel would also never play his favourite music _at a graveyard_, and especially when there are other people within earshot. The music is loud and it disrupts the quiet of the area, utterly ruining the serenity he had felt while talking to his parents. Immediately he starts mentally building an argument. If he makes it good enough, then maybe he’ll find the courage to go over and ask them to turn it down.

Castiel doesn’t get far in rehearsing his speech. The man with the long hair tucks it behind his ears and glances back over at him. Caught in the act for a _second_ time, Castiel quickly looks away. An embarrassed heat burns in his cheeks and he discards his argument in favour of weighing the odds about whether or not his aunt would be able to pick him up yet.

But then the music is turned down to the point that he can barely hear it. Castiel glances up again and both men are looking at him now. They smile apologetically and wave before turning back to the grave. His annoyance with the music evaporates, though Castiel would still prefer to be the only one here right now.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted for me.” He sighs and twists the belt of his coat between his fingers as he looks down at the gravestone in front of him. “I know you just wanted to protect me from a world that hates me, but I can't help but wonder – Do you think I wouldn’t be so afraid of people if you had registered me when I presented?”

If they had done that, then they never would have moved away from _Pontiac, Illinois_. If they had stayed there, then his parents’ car wouldn’t have been t-boned when some asshole ran a red light. They might still be alive had they just followed the law and registered him like they were supposed to. Sure, his life would have been fraught with hardships and he would have been discriminated against by a large chunk of society, but he probably wouldn’t have so much anxiety about leaving his home. And, most importantly, he might still have his parents.

Another loud laugh rolls across the grave sites. Castiel frowns and looks up again. The man in the leather jacket has a beer in hand and his head is thrown back with a laugh. His companion is grinning widely, so he must have told another good joke. He should stop being so funny if it makes the other man laugh so much. It’s starting to fray at Castiel’s last nerve . And then, once again, the one with the long hair glances his way.

“I don’t think I can concentrate on talking to you in this atmosphere.” Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I’m going to cut our visit short and I’ll just – I’ll come back next week. Anna and I are going shopping and I’ll use that time in town to come finish talking to you.”

The man with the long hair looks at him too much for his liking and it’s making Castiel feel antsy – _uncomfortable_. What if he sees something he shouldn’t? What if the coat isn’t hiding his secret like it’s supposed to be? Fear overcomes any annoyance Castiel had at the other visitors. He can’t let his secret be discovered. It would ruin his life.

Castiel tries not to let his hand shake as he pats his pockets to find his cell phone. If he explains his situation, his aunt will drop everything and come pick him up no matter what. At the very least, Anna might leave ahead of her and come keep him company until the car gets here. Both of their presences have a significant calming effect on him and he can feel the beginning of a panic attack brewing tight and painful in his chest.

He’s in the process of typing out a message to his aunt – not wanting to verbalize the issue through a phone call in case the other two visitors can hear him – when a shadow falls over him. Castiel’s heart is suddenly in his throat and his grip on his phone goes knuckle white before he looks up.

The man with the short hair is standing on the other side of his parents’ gravestone; his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Hey, buddy.” He dips his head in greeting before jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “We have beer and sandwiches. Wanna come join the party?”

All Castiel can do is stare despite the growing notion that he _shouldn’t_. A thick scar runs from the hairline at the man’s left temple and onto his forehead, ending in line with the inside end of his left eyebrow. There’s another thinner scar, one that looks no less painful, that cuts along his right cheek bone. It starts in his hairline above his right ear and ends in the middle of his cheek. A very thin scar, almost like a scratch, runs up the right side of his throat towards the one on his cheek. The one on his left cheek is much smaller.

Is he on leave from the army? Or did he have a rough childhood? Castiel has no experience with telling the age of scars, but he can’t imagine any other reasons that someone would have so many. Granted, he _has _lived a fairly sheltered life.

The stranger shifts on his feet and a hint of colour rises in his cheeks. He clears his throat and half turns away to gesture, again, at his impromptu picnic. “You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

Castiel gathers his wits about him and shakes his head. “Thank you, but no.” He gets to his feet slowly, making sure that his coat hangs properly around his sides to obscure everything from his hips and up. “I was just leaving.”

A smile pulls up the corner of the stranger’s mouth. “Liar.”

His stomach drops slightly before Castiel steels himself. “I’m not lying.” He’s almost tempted to show his phone to prove that he’s in the process of typing the message to call for his ride. But that would show him complaining about the two men and he couldn’t stand the embarrassment.

The man raises an eyebrow and looks back at his companion, who nods in return. He turns back with a smug smile. “Sam says you are.” It grows into a grin and before Castiel can even react, he grabs him by the wrist. “C’mon, you’ll have a blast!”

When was the last time someone that wasn’t family touched him? It would have been before he presented. The warm fingers folded around his wrist stall out Castiel’s brain to the point that he can’t even form the words to tell him to let go. He possesses the strength to easily break the grip, or dig his heels in and stop himself from being dragged over to the other grave site, but it’s like his brain has one of those spinning loading wheels in place and it hasn’t quite caught up to what’s happening.

Everything comes back online when they come to a stop in front of the other man; Sam, was it? He’s frowning up at his companion. “If he didn’t want to come, you should have let him go, Dean.”

“You said I should invite him over coz’ he’s giving off _loneliness_ like stink lines, so I invited him over.” He drops Castiel’s wrist and sits back down on this side of the blanket. “And what’s the problem, anyway? You said he’s one of us.”

Castiel’s immediate reaction is to try and interject that he’s _not_ lonely, thank you very much. He has Anna and his aunt. He doesn’t need anyone else. And if he was emanating anything, it was annoyance at his quiet visit with his parents being disrupted by this loud pair. Seriously, who plays _music_ in a _graveyard_ outside of a service? Rude people. That’s who!

Sam glances up at him and frowns slightly. “For starters, he sort of looks like he wants to cry.”

“I’m not going to _cry_!” Castiel finds his voice then, but wishes that it didn’t crack slightly from his nerves.

“But you _are_ uncomfortable, and –”

“Of _course_ I’m not comfortable!” He points at Dean, as identified by the one he called Sam. “He dragged me over here against my will!” Castiel takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. He’s surprised at his own outburst, but he’s not done with it. “And I’m _not_ one of you. I don’t even know what you mean by that. If you mean an orphan, that doesn’t make us brothers in arms or anything of the sort.”

The pair share a look. “Orphans?” Dean shakes his head and points at the grave. “We’re not orphans. It’s just our mom down there.”

“It’s the fifteenth anniversary of her death.” Sam smiles sadly and raises his beer to the grave. “We don’t know where our dad is, but he’s alive the last time we checked. Right?” He glances at Dean and gets a nod in confirmation.

Castiel frowns between them. It was a spur of the moment assumption that they were orphans because the headstone says _beloved mother_ and neither one of them looks to be old enough to have been her husband. If they’re not orphans, than what in the world could they have meant? Part of his ire gives way to confusion, but he resigns himself to never knowing that answer because he’s going to walk away _right now_ and not look back.

But then Sam turns a soft smile up at him, as if in understanding. He glances around before raising a hand at the unlit candles that edge the tombstone. His fingers twitch slightly once, twice, and then flames flicker to life on the wicks of the candles.

His breath catches in his throat and Castiel takes a step back. “You’re a _mutant_.”

This shouldn’t surprise him, given his own situation, but – but they said that he was one of them. That means they _know_. But how could they possibly – No. There’s still time to save this. If he continues to act like he’s just a normal person, maybe they won’t say anything to anyone and he’ll be safe.

He takes another step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m _not_ a mutant.”

Dean looks at Sam again. When he nods, Dean rests an elbow on the cooler and props his chin on his hand, regarding Castiel with an almost amused expression. “Sammy says you are, and I trust what he says. He’s got a kinda _sixth sense_ about this stuff.”

With that, he sits back and hauls the cooler out of the way, opening the spot between them. He pats it and grins up at Castiel. “Now come sit down. We’re not gonna force you to show your mutation or whatever, but you should know that we don’t really care if you _are _a mutant or not.”

After a long moment of silence where Castiel is torn between running and staying to find out just how much they know about him, Sam turns a soft smile on him again. “You’re unregistered.” Those words have his heart stuttering in his chest again. “So am I.”

“_Dude_!” Dean reaches out to punch him on the shoulder. “You’re not supposed to tell people that! What if he turns around and tells the cops about you?”

“He won’t.” Sam shakes his head and leans back on one of his hands. “If he did, then he runs the risk of us revealing him in turn. And you want to avoid all chances of that, don’t you?”

Castiel feels faint. All the blood in his body has rushed to his head and his legs feel weak. Every breath is laborious and he’s rooted to the spot. “You – You’re a psychic?”

“Not quite.” Sam shakes his head and shrugs. “I’m an empath and a telekinetic, with just a hint of pyrokinetic to make things interesting.”

Oh God. That’s a class five. Castiel is in the presence of an unregistered _class five mutant_. Anyone with mental abilities or the power to control the elements is immediately considered unfit for society. They’re carted off to _The Facility_ the moment their powers present. There’s no evaluation at _The Registry_ for them.

Even just thinking about it makes Castiel shudder. It’s no wonder that Sam is an unregistered then. If the government can’t find a use for him, or if he’s too strong willed and can’t be controlled, then he would be kept in _The Facility_ for his whole life. Or, for really troubled cases, he would be _erased_. That’s what everyone says happens, at least. No one outside of _The Facility_ or certain levels of government actually knows what happens in there. But it’s common knowledge that most mutants who get taken to _The Facility_ don’t come back. Ever.

Castiel steps back onto the blanket and sinks to his knees. He drops heavily onto his ass, unable to stop staring at Sam. What does he sense about him that makes him feel like Castiel is trustworthy enough to be given this information? Or is he relying on the blackmailing to keep his mouth shut? Sam is right in both cases, of course.

Being an unregistered mutant is a crime. At thirty years old, Castiel has been unregistered since he presented when he was nine. Even though his mutation would be a _class one_ at best, he would be jailed or sent to _The Facility_. But no one he knows would report him. Anna and his aunt would never do that to him. But now these strangers know and – and –

He’s going to have a panic attack.

Castiel brings his knees to his chest and puts his head between them. He struggles to get his breathing under control, counting each one and holding it before exhaling.

“If it helps, I’m only a class one.” Dean speaks up and Castiel lifts his head just enough to see him over the edge of his knee.

Dean’s grin has softened considerably. He pulls the collar of his shirt down enough to reveal a slightly faded _C-1_ in a dark circle under his left collar bone. A small portion of the tattoo is ripped up by another knotted scar.

Once he’s sure that Castiel got a good look at it, Dean covers up again. “Too bad so sad for me, but I didn’t have a choice with being registered. I presented in the middle of gym class when I was ten.” He opens the cooler and pulls out another couple beers. “We get why there are some who don’t want to be registered, and it fucking sucks that we have to be, y’know? But we’re not going to tell anyone about you. Promise.” And he draws an ‘X’ over his heart as if to seal it.

He passes one of the beers to Castiel. Though he’s not usually one to drink, he definitely feels like he needs something to soothe his rattled nerves. Castiel twists the top off and downs most of the bottle’s contents before he realizes that Dean is offering a bottle opener. Apparently it wasn’t a twist off and he just showed off a piece of his powers.

Dean raises his eyebrows and lowers the bottle opener. He shares a look with Sam and Castiel resolutely doesn’t say anything. His powers – his _secret_ – is his, Anna’s, and his aunt’s. No one else knows about it. The only two other people in the world who knew are in the ground thirty feet away. And Castiel is most certainly not looking to increase that number in any way.

Aside from Anna, Castiel has never met another mutant before. He glances between Dean and Sam, a little bit of awe replacing his panic and fear. Anna is a _class three_ registered mutant. Even with her hair down, the tattoo on the side of her neck is always visible – which is a requirement for any mutant classed three or higher.

_Class three_ mutants are just on the cusp of being considered a threat. Thankfully, Anna’s evaluation at _The Registry _when she presented determined that she wasn’t dangerous enough to require being shipped off to _The Facility_. Ever since she was registered, Anna has had a babysitter who checks in on her randomly every month to make sure that she’s not using her powers to get up to no good. She also has to be re-evaluated at _The Registry_ once a year.

The evaluation is a rundown of a mutant’s powers to see if they’ve evolved since they presented. It includes a psychological assessment so the government will know if a mutant is of sound mind or might potentially try using their powers to break the law.

Anna hates all the checkups and evaluations, but she has no choice. Unlike Castiel, who presented at home, her powers manifested in a public park. It was some school activity day when she was eleven years old. From what she’s told him, she was playing tag with some of her friends and was running from the tagger. Suddenly she was on the far side of the park in the blink of an eye and she ran headlong into a tree in her surprise.

It was really lucky that it was an event that Aunt Amara was chaperoning at. While kids were screaming and parents and teachers were talking in hushed whispers (because most everyone sees mutants as something to be _afraid _of), Aunt Amara got Anna out of there and took her home to take care of the scrapes she got from the tree.

But because so many had seen Anna use her powers, Aunt Amara had to turn her into _The Registry_ herself. It was either that be thrown in jail for trying to hide a mutant. And that would have meant that Anna had to go into foster care or be placed with Castiel’s family, which ran the risk of exposing _him_. At that point, Castiel had fully manifested his mutation for eight years. Aunt Amara never even hesitated to think it was an option.

As soon as Anna’s evaluation was completed, she was registered, given her tattoo, and released. She never talks about her time at _The Registry_ and Castiel knows better to ask. They immediately moved from _Pontiac, Illinois_ to _Lawrence, Kansas_ so they could be closer to Castiel’s family. The support was needed, especially when everyone back in _Pontiac_ had begun to alienate them.

If that’s what it was like for a _class three_, Castiel can’t imagine how traumatic it would have been for Sam as a clear _class five_. He has so many questions about them and their powers, but they’re all stuck at the back of his throat. It takes a whole two beers for him to relax enough and breathe easier to be able to actually talk to them.

There’s a lull in the conversation as Dean gets a couple bagged sandwiches out from the cooler. Castiel uses that to turn to Sam. “Do you always just _sense_ things?”

“Not _always_.” Sam shrugs and accepts the sandwich that Dean passes to him. “I usually keep an antenna open for hostile feelings. Otherwise, I try to stay out of people’s emotions. Sometimes I pick up on really strong feelings whether I want to or not.” He fidgets with the edges of the sandwich bag before glancing at Castiel. “And your loneliness was too strong to ignore.”

What can he say to that? It’s hard to deny, even to himself, given what he had just said to his parents not long before Dean came over. Castiel can only swallow what’s left of his beer and hold his hand out for another one.

Dean laughs as he pulls another beer from the cooler. “You’re going to drink all my beer, huh? Don’t want a sandwich to go with it?”

He’s shaking his head about the sandwich when he realizes what was said before it. Castiel hadn’t even considered how rude he was being. He immediately tries to hand the bottle back, but Dean laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, man. Go ahead! It’s not like this shit gets me drunk anyway.” After a pause, he looks down at the beer thoughtfully. “I wonder if Absinthe would kick in fast enough to get me drunk at least for a little bit to see what that’s like.”

“We’re not buying Absinthe so you can _experiment_ on yourself.”

“Aw, c’mon, Sammy!”

Sam takes a bite out of his sandwich and shakes his head. “You can’t get drunk, Dean. You’ve tried. A _lot_. Get over it.”

With a petulant groan, Dean starts in on his own sandwich. Once again, Castiel finds himself staring at him. He has no idea what Dean’s powers are, but apparently it involves not being able to get drunk. What kind of powers would include something like that? Castiel wracks his brain, but nothing is really coming up. All he can do is file that information away despite how he expects not to have to use it again. Of course he’s never going to see these two after tonight, so there’s no point in putting any effort into remembering it.

“You’re staring.” Dean’s eyes crinkle slightly at their corners, one cheek full of food as he grins.

Castiel flushes and ducks his head. He hadn’t meant to do it, but he's always looked at things intently whenever he’s thinking.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean waves his free hand before leaning back on it and stretching his legs out in front of him. “Stare all you want. I know I’m a sight for sore eyes.”

Sam leans over, voice dropped into a loud whisper. “Ignore him. He hasn’t realized yet that he’s also the _cause_ of the sore eyes.”

That has Dean choking on his mouthful of food. He coughs and thumps his chest to clear it a few times before fixing his brother with a frown. “Wow, Sammy. _Rude_. Maybe it’s _your_ face hurting his eyes!”

And that starts up a bickering back and forth that Castiel finds _fascinating_. He’s never had the opportunity to see siblings in action before. Anna was technically an accident when Aunt Amara had been planning never to have children, and Castiel was a miracle baby. His parents had been trying for a very long time and spent a lot of money on having a child. They couldn’t afford to do it a second time, even though they wanted another. They were still saving up for and considering adoption when Castiel presented and that – Well, that changed everything.

Despite knowing Anna for most of his life, he’s pretty sure that even they don’t act like this. Castiel was six years old when she was born, and she was only three when he presented and his parents moved their small family here to _Lawrence_. He didn’t see Anna again until after she presented and he was seventeen at that time. Even still, it was nice to have family close by, finally. The only people Castiel ever saw during those eight years were his parents.

The conversation between Dean and Sam evolves from bickering about who is least attractive to which actors they think are the most attractive. Dean is adamant that Harrison Ford, even at 75 years old, could still _get it_. Castiel just marvels at it all. The less he talks, the less attention is paid to him and that’s how he likes it.

But then Dean is turning to him sharply. “Have _you_ seen the new Blade Runner movie?”

“Yes, actually.” Castiel pauses and clears his throat. “And I agree with your assessment of Harrison Ford.”

“Hah!” He punches the air. “Take _that_, Sammy!” There’s a clear level of excitement as Dean crosses his legs so he can face Castiel properly. “What did you think of it? Do you think it held up to the first one?”

Whether it held up or not is an entirely different question to the first. “I liked it, though I’m not very fond of Ryan Gosling.”

“And here I thought you had _good_ taste.” And that starts a new rant of Dean’s going on about the movies that Ryan Gosling has been in. He talks with his hands a lot, gesturing with his beer or his sandwich while making his points. Half of what he says is directed to Sam or Castiel, and the other half to the grave of his mother.

It’s… strangely entertaining. Castiel is torn between being his usual bundle nerves at being in the presence of strangers and – surprisingly – _enjoying_ himself.

In comparison to Dean, Sam is more reserved. He’ll interject often, or interrupt Dean to remind him that he’s embellishing a story too much. But otherwise, he laughs and smiles just as much as his brother – just quieter. Strangely, all the stories revolve around something happening at a gas station, motel, or grocery store. Never at either of their jobs. And Castiel can’t help wondering what they actually do. Of course he’d never _ask_ outright.

They talk between them and the grave about people named Bobby and Pam, but they never say anything to Castiel about who they are. Despite being just _slightly_ curious about it, he doesn’t really want clarification. What’s the point of needing further information about the people he’s never going to meet? The same can be said for learning more about Dean and Sam.

All three of them jump in surprise when Castiel’s phone beeps rather loudly, signaling that he received a text message. He fumbles apologies while pulling it out again to find that Anna had texted him about how her and his aunt are on their way to pick him up.

“Oh, I need to go.” He blinks at his phone, realizing that he’s actually a little disappointed. “My ride is on their way and I meet them at the gates.”

Castiel stands up to dust off his pants and coat, making sure that it doesn’t flap too much or they might catch a glimpse of his secret. He steps away from the bubble of light and music they’ve created around their mother’s tombstone. “Thank you for including me. It was… interesting.”

A chill skitters down his spine and he realizes that it’s _much_ warmer down on the blanket in the light of the candles. Is that a part of Sam’s pyrokinetic powers? Maybe he’s just naturally warm all the time and that heats the air around him. Either way, it was nice and Castiel didn’t even notice that he wasn’t feeling the evening chill after the sun had set.

“Got a hot date?” Dean waggles his eyebrows and laughs to himself, like he made a big joke.

Castiel frowns at him and shakes his head. “No, it’s my aunt and cousin.” He checks the time on his phone before sending a text that he’s starting for the gates. “And you should probably prepare to leave soon. The caretakers lock the gates in ten minutes, and they might be mad at you for having candles.”

“Shit, really?” Dean quickly downs the last of his beer and tosses the empty bottle into the cooler with the rest. “I guess we better shut’er down. Sammy, you got the candles?”

With a wave of his hand, Sam extinguishes each candle without so much as touching them. Castiel is almost impressed – and briefly jealous. It would be so nice if his own mutation was something as easily hidden as Sam’s. But his is physical. A _deformity_. One that if he showed it would mark him as mutant despite how a _class one_ tattoo would be allowed to be hidden under his clothing.

“Have a good evening.” Castiel is quieter than he intended, but he turns on his heel and all but speed walks away. The faster he separates himself from the brothers, the sooner he can put this entire evening behind him.

Sam calls out a goodbye behind him, but it’s overlapped with Dean calling out for him to wait. Castiel ignores it and he doesn’t look back. He keeps his overcoat hugged around him to keep it from flapping as he quickly makes his way along the paths back to the gates. Hopefully his aunt and Anna will get here before Dean and Sam drive by. They might stop to talk to him again and Castiel is honestly not sure if he wants that or not.

It’s only a few minutes later when his aunt’s car pulls up to the curb. They don’t live very far by car, so it’s no surprise that they got here so quickly. Castiel climbs into the backseat the moment the doors are unlocked. He immediately leans forward to press his forehead against the back of Anna’s chair and takes a minute to gather himself. When he finally sits back in his seat, still sitting forward just enough so as not to hurt his back, it’s to find both Anna and his aunt watching him.

“What happened?” Anna quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head.

Is he really that obvious? Castiel tries to school himself into a serene smile. “Nothing happened.”

Aunt Amara narrows her eyes at him. She gives him a careful up and down before frowning. “Something happened. What happened?

“Nothing happened.” He shakes his head and exaggerates rubbing his stomach. “I’m hungry. Can we please go eat now?”

Anna and his aunt share a look before glancing back to him. Castiel stares back, keeping his face carefully neutral. He’s very good at that and Anna is often jealous of his poker face. And yet she's also told a number of times that she finds him sometimes _too_ stoic for her liking.

But then his calm front is all but entirely shattered when the same black car that Dean and Sam had been driving pulls through the gates. Castiel presses his lips into a thin line and he couldn’t look away from it even if he tried. Of course both Anna and his aunt immediately turn to see what he’s staring at. The three of them watch as the black car pulls out onto the road, turning in their direction. The driver’s side window is down and Dean sticks his arm out to wave as they go by.

Immediately Castiel is the center of attention again. Anna’s eyebrows have nearly disappeared into her red hairline. “Who were they?”

“No one.” Castiel crosses his arms and looks away. “All I know is that they’re noisy and nosy.”

“What?” Anna’s voice takes a note of alarm to it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “It means that I’m coming back to visit Mom and Dad next week. I didn’t get a proper visit with them today.”

His aunt is frowning again when he looks back at her. “Did those guys bug you? I can make a complaint to the cemetery office for you. They have the right to ban annoying visitors from the grounds.”

That doesn’t seem quite fair. A warning at most would probably be best. Castiel shakes his head and offers her a smile. “No, it’s fine. They only came because it’s apparently the anniversary of their mother’s death. At least now I know that I shouldn’t come on November 2nd ever again.” He gestures between them and towards the road. “Can we _please_ go have dinner now?”

She stares him down for another few moments before sighing and turning forward. “Fine.” The car shudders slightly as she puts it into gear and starts them forward.

Anna, on the other hand, is still twisted around in her chair to watch him. After a block, she hums to herself and turns back around. “I’ll get the truth out of you eventually.”

Castiel honestly doesn’t doubt that, but he just doesn’t want to talk about it right now. All he wants is some food in his belly to soak up the beer he filled it with, and to regain his sense of normalcy. The last half an hour he spent in Dean and Sam’s company was… surreal. Nothing like this has ever happened to him since after he presented as a mutant. Castiel had forgotten what _normal_ life was like before then.

* * *

** _Friday – November 3rd, 2017_ **

It’s not often that Castiel hears his doorbell. Both Anna and his aunt have a key and they always call or text before they come over. Every once in a while the publisher or one of the doctors he transcribes for will courier over something for him, but he’s always expecting their arrival. No one ever just _shows up_.

That said, it doesn’t even occur to him to _not_ answer the door. Castiel pulls his housecoat tight around him and muffles a yawn as he shuffles out of his bedroom. He can see someone’s shoulder through the windows on either side of the door, but it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary. At least not until he steps up next to it to peek through.

Dean grins back at him from the other side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Friday – November 3rd, 2017_ **

Castiel quickly steps away from the window.

Sam and Dean are outside his front door. The mutant brothers he met at the cemetery yesterday are _on his doorstep_. What are _they_ doing here? How did they find him? _Why_ did they follow him? Are they here to blackmail him for something? His house is probably the biggest asset Castiel has. It’s not like he’s swimming in money or anything, but he is well off for someone his age – particularly a mutant.

The doorbell rings again, and this time it’s followed by a knock.

What if he ran? _Where_ would he run? The door in the dining room leads to the garage, but he would have to open the garage door to get out and it’s not like he has a car. They would hear it opening anyways. He could go out the door in the kitchen onto the deck in the backyard, but it’s just fields and forests out that way. They might not follow him right away, but they also might not leave.

Should he call the police? But what if they come and Dean and Sam call him out as an unregistered? It’s fairly obvious with him, but if he tries to point out that Sam is _also_ unregistered, why would they believe him? Sam looks completely human and _normal_.

His breath is coming in short, quick bursts and Castiel wishes he hadn’t left his cell phone in the bedroom. He should have brought it with him so he could call Anna and his aunt right now and ask them what in the _world_ he should do. He’s frozen and he can’t breathe and –

“C’mon, Mr. Novak!” Someone knocks again and Dean raises his voice loud enough to be heard through the door. “We just want to talk!”

“Why are you _stalking me_?” Castiel calls back and hugs himself. He closes his eyes and starts counting his breaths. In, one. Out, two. In, three. Out, four. It starts working, slowly but surely, but then his breath catches again when he looks up to find both of them watching through the windows.

Dean frowns, actually looking worried. “Are you dying?” His voice is muffled, but he’s still speaking loud enough to be heard.

“No, he’s _scared_, you idiot.” Sam turns his head to glare at him. “I _told_ you this was a bad idea.”

“But how else were we –” He stops talking the moment Castiel moves forward.

In quick, jerky movements, he unlocks the door and pulls it open. Castiel starts by pointing at Sam. “Stop reading my emotions. I don’t like it.” And then he points at Dean. “And _why_ are you _here_? I didn’t even give you my _name_ let alone how to find me! This is a _massive_ breach of –”

“I’m sorry!” Dean blurts, both hands up as if he expects Castiel to strike at him. “I didn’t think you’d freak out like this. I just wanted to –”

Castiel is riding an adrenaline high and he crosses his arms to hide the way his hands are shaking. “How did you find me?”

“It’s kind of our job to find people. We got your last name from the grave you were visiting.” Sam also has his hands up, but it’s more in a soothing manner than Dean’s defensive position – like how one would face a frightened or dangerous animal. “And I’m really sorry for him. Dean’s the one who drives the car and I _told_ him this was a bad –”

“What kind of job finds people who don’t want to be found?” He would normally feel bad about interrupting, but Castiel feels like he’s due a proper explanation.

Dean fumbles to get his wallet out. From it, he pulls a card and offers it to him. Castiel stares at it suspiciously before taking it. Dean’s picture is on it, but it’s unlike any license he’s ever seen before.

“You must be joking.” Castiel looks back up at him and then down at the card. “_Bounty hunter_?” And here he thought that was no longer a really job – or, at the very least, was make-believe. That television show with the man named _Dog_ has to be entirely scripted. He always assumed it was fake.

“Yup!” Dean grins, clearly proud of himself. “We’re both bounty hunters. We hunt bail jumpers sometimes, but mostly we’re taking contracts from the government to hunt rogue mutants.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his eyes grow wide and he holds up his hands again. “_Not_ mutants like you! You’re not a rogue. You’re totally safe. I _swear_.”

Castiel hands back the license and looks between the two of them. His heart _did_ jump painfully when Dean said that, but he still has his suspicions, _and_ other questions. “You’re mutants who hunt mutants?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.” Sam nods and he pats at his own pockets for his wallet. “Do you want to see my license too?”

“One was fine, thank you.” Questioning them about their job is really helping distract Castiel from that tight ball of panic still sitting between his lungs. It’s easier to breathe when he’s not worrying about everything else. “So you, an unregistered for your own safety, are hunting other unregistered mutants?”

Sam scratches the back of his head and shrugs. “Well, yes, but we only hunt the bad ones. The kind of mutants who use their abilities to commit crimes. Most of the ones we hunt are actually registered and they just failed their evaluations. Some bolted or simply didn’t show up.”

“And it’s our job to track them down, capture them, and bring them in to the authorities.” Dean cuts in. He seems less energetic than he was yesterday, which Castiel also find suspicious.

There’s one word in what was said that piques his curiosity. “And _how_ do you capture them?” Does it have something to do with Dean’s powers? He never made any mention of them yesterday – aside from being unable to get drunk.

“Tranquilizers, mostly.”

That’s almost disappointing. But he’s calmed down enough to breathe normally and get back to his original line of questioning. “And what does any of that have to do with _me_?”

“Well, you see, you’re a mutant –” Dean starts and Castiel’s panic flares sharply.

It’s apparently strong enough for Sam to stagger back a step and put a hand to his forehead with a muttered; “_Ow_.”

“Shit, I fucked up again, didn’t I?” Dean looks between Castiel and Sam with a defeated sigh. “I’m just gonna stop talking.”

“It’s okay, Dean.” Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and turns a shaky smile on them both before focusing on Castiel. “What he meant to say, Mr. Novak, was that _we _are _all_ mutants.”

That does calm him somewhat, but he doesn’t stop hugging himself to try and stave away that anxious ball in his chest. His throat works painfully around every word when he speaks. “Why –” He takes a deep breath. “Why does that matter?”

The brothers share another look before Sam’s smile turns hopeful. “Well, we decided to stay in town for a little bit and visit our mom more since it’s been fifteen years. And we were wondering if we could maybe stay with you while we’re here?”

Castiel’s jaw drops. He doesn’t intend for it to, but his surprise is too much to contain. “You – You’re actually serious?”

Dean nods and opens his mouth to answer, but then thinks better of it. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks to his brother. Sam rolls his eyes but continues. “We tried to go to a few motels last night, but the first one we went to asked for our IDs and they saw that Dean’s driver’s license has him also marked as a mutant. They refused us service and when we tried another motel, they claimed they didn’t have any free rooms even with their _vacancy _sign lit.”

“We didn’t try anywhere else after that.” Dean mutters, his previously somewhat cheery disposition nowhere to be seen as he looks away from them both. “We spent the night in the car.”

The reality of their situation doesn’t sit well with Castiel. It reminds him too much about how hard things have been for Anna and his aunt. Despite being unregistered, Castiel has had to spend every day since he was nine years old in hiding. But it’s still better than having normal people look down at you and having literally _everything _be harder.

It’s almost impossible for a mutant to find a decent job that pays a living wage. Mutants tend to be given the jobs that no one ever really wants, and they don’t get paid well for it. And it’s incredibly difficult for a mutant to get a driver’s license. They get failed for the most ridiculous things and it takes dedication and a lot of money to keep going – unless they luck out and find someplace or someone who is mutant friendly and treats them like a normal person.

And the segregation alone is just – It sets Castiel’s blood on fire. It’s really only in effect in schools and public transport, but _still_. Apparently it’s meant to keep the normal people safe from mutants, but according to Anna, most mutants consider it the opposite. They don’t get bullied in mutant-only classrooms, and the teachers don’t mark them worse simply for being what they are. It would be nice if there were more mutant only buses that ran more often, but that’s the harsh reality of mutant life.

Even the immediate family of mutants have it tough – as evidenced by how Sam, a normal person at first glance, was unable to get a room at a motel simply because he was travelling with a mutant. When it came to Anna, his aunt couldn’t get anything but low income housing in a mutant based apartment block when they moved to _Lawrence_. They might have been able to get something a smidge better, but Anna was not only a registered mutant, but also a _class three_.

All his upset for Anna’s situation culminates in a sense of _sympathy_ for these two who really shouldn’t be on his front step at – God, what time is it even? Castiel didn’t check the clock when he got up. With a sigh, he rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you know anyone else here?” Their mother is buried here, so it’s safe to assume that they must have lived in _Lawrence_ at some point, right?

“Not anymore.” Dean shakes his head, apparently feeling like it’s safe for him to talk again. “We were born here, but Dad moved us to South Dakota the moment Sam presented. You were, what – eight at the time?” He glances at Sam and gets a nod in confirmation. “Yeah, see? No one is gonna remember us. That was, like, fifteen years ago.”

Castiel looks between the two of them. “That was after your mother died?”

An uncomfortable silence overtakes them. Sam looks down and away, visibly shrinking in on himself while Dean puts a hand on his shoulder in comfort. He clears his throat loudly after a moment. “Yeah, it was. She was the only one with roots here, so Dad had no problem moving us after she died. We didn’t keep in contact with anyone that mom knew and – Well, the rest is history.”

While that’s certainly a bit of a sad story, Castiel is still on the fence about their request. That must be evident on his face, because Dean tries for another cheery smile – though this time it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “_Anyways_ – Can we stay here or not? We can pay in fucking’ _awesome_ food, and we’ll pay rent if you want to charge us that too.”

The ‘no’ is sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he thinks better of refusing outright. “And what will you do if I say ‘no’?”

Sam shrugs and seems to have regained some of his colour that he had lost before. “If you don’t want us to stay, that’s fine. We’ll leave and you’ll probably never see us again.” He pauses. “Unless you run into us in town. But that’s about it.”

Dean nods in agreement. “I know that I can be a dick sometimes, but neither of us is enough of an asshole to try to force you to do something you don’t want to do or out you as unregistered.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Especially not when you could just turn Sammy in too. And he’s a _Facility_ level class, if you didn’t figure that out already.”

“I know.” Castiel glances at Sam and looks away again, not liking how his eyes seem like they see right through him and all his secrets are laid bare. “You’re only here because you think that I’m more likely to let you stay with me because I’m a mutant?”

“Yup.” Dean’s grin is a little more genuine this time. “Figured we had a better chance of staying with you than anywhere else.”

Castiel shifts on his feet, looking between the two of them again. He recalls exactly what made Dean approach him yesterday and frowns. “And this has nothing to do with how you think I’m _lonely_?”

Suddenly neither of them will meet his eyes. Sam rubs at the back of his neck, looking as sheepish as one can. “It might have been a deciding factor in us looking you up. Maybe.”

While he doesn’t like the idea of being _pitied_, Castiel much prefers their other reasons for why they came here. He sighs and steps back, away from the door – not enough to grant them entry, but not blocking them entirely anymore.

Should he ask Anna and his aunt want to do? Or should he trust that they’re not here to rob him blind, or kill him, or worse. What if he turns them away and they break their word and report him to for being unregistered? Even if he _did_ try and turn Sam in too, there’s always the chance that the police won’t believe him. And if they stay here, he’ll have to keep covered even in his own home to hide his secret.

“How do I know you’re not here to rob me? Or kill me?”

Dean actually snorts and covers his mouth as if that will hide his laughter. “Buddy, you already opened the door to us. If we wanted to steal your shit or gank you, we probably would have done it already. We’re not really the kind who play mind games.”

Sam nods in agreement. “And we’re a weird kind of law enforcement with the whole _being bounty hunters_ thing.”

Right, that. Castiel still has his doubts about that being a real job. But it’s also far too early for this. He isn’t even awake before ten o’clock most days. And he hasn’t had his coffee yet! He needs his coffee first before he can even begin to handle how Dean looks so hopeful, or how Sam continues to look at him in that see-through kind of way with his head tilted to the side. Is he trying to read Castiel’s emotions? Just how much can he learn about him from that?

The knot of nerves is still tight in his chest, but something else just – _let’s go_. Castiel blows out a resigned sigh and turns on his heel, starting up the stairs to the main floor. “I only have _one_ guest bed.”

Dean cheers quietly and footsteps follow him inside. The door shuts and there’s a scuffling in the foyer as they remove their shoes. He ignores it in favour of heading into the kitchen to start his pot of coffee early. According to the clock, it’s just past eight-thirty. He grimaces at it and mourns the fact that he won’t be going back to sleep any time soon.

“You’ve got a real nice place here, Mr. Novak.” Dean whistles and it sounds like it’s coming from the living room. “And that couch looks pretty comfy! That’s sure as heck better than sleeping in the car. C’mon, Sammy. Rock-paper-scissors me on who gets the couch. Best two out of three.”

Sam sounds amused when he answers. “Is it the winner or the loser who gets the couch?”

“Loser, obviously.”

Castiel listens to the soft pat of skin against skin, which he assumes is their hands against their palms. He’s tempted to go watch to see who wins, but instead he braces his hands against the counter in front of the sink and hangs his head. The full weight of what he’s just done hasn’t fully settled, but he still can’t wrap his brain around what he just agreed to. He doesn’t even know how long they’ll be staying!

There’s a slight shake to his hands, not as bad as it probably should be, as he reaches out to turn the tap. Castiel shivers as he splashes cold water on his face. Maybe this is all some weird dream and he’ll wake up now. It took him forever to fall asleep last night, thinking too much about everything that had happened that day and this – this could all just be a stress dream.

But everything out the window looks normal. There’s nothing dream-esque about the deck that spans most of the back of the house, or the yard beyond it. His father’s gardens and his mother’s bird feeders, all things that he’s maintained in the six years since their death, have no differences to them. This is real. This is very real and Castiel needs something to ground himself immediately before he thinks himself into yet another panic attack.

He closes his eyes and focuses on thinking about the gardens. Castiel takes slow, deep breaths and thinks about how Aunt Amara comes over and helps him with weeding and planting. She brings him the fertilizer or any other supplies that he needs and will discuss what plants are doing well and which ones need more attention. She has her twin brother’s green thumb.

Next he focuses on the bird feeders. He used to make them with his mom using honey and birdseed. They would make them look like hearts or other fun shapes. Castiel still does this, but usually it’s with Anna now. They have a lot of fun turning his kitchen into a mess when making them. He really should check on them and see if they’re due to make more soon.

A loud swear from the living room snaps him out of his memories. Castiel turns just as Sam walks into the kitchen through the door from the dining room. “I won the guest bedroom.” He smiles and cups a hand around his mouth, though his whisper is hardly quiet. “It’s because Dean always throws scissors.”

“I do _not_!” Dean shouts from the living room, and Castiel almost winces at the loud noise. “You’re using your empathy bullshit somehow to win every goddamn time!”

Sam only winks in response. “He’s also a sore loser.”

This is so not something Castiel wants to deal with. The coffee hasn’t finished brewing yet, so he might as well show them where things are. There’s still the chance that he might wake up from all of this.

He sighs and gestures for Sam to follow him. Castiel heads out through the other entrance to the kitchen. It faces the coat closet at the top of the stairs to the foyer landing. He turns right to head down the only hall in the house.

As he goes, Castiel points to the open door on his right. “That’s the full bath.” Opposite it is a closed door and he points to that next. “That is my office. Do _not_ go in there. The door will be locked at all times, even when I’m working.” The linen closet separates his office from the spare bedroom and he pushes the door open. “This is the spare bedroom.”

Opposite that door is his bedroom. It’s still sitting wide open and he steps over to pull it closed. “This is my bedroom and it is also off limits. I will be keeping this door locked too.” For whatever good that might do. Didn’t Sam say that he was also a telekinetic? It must be child’s play for him to manipulate the pins and tumblers in a lock without the use of a key.

“Thanks, Mr. Novak.” Sam steps into the guest bedroom to look around. It’s fairly simple with a double bed in the center of the wall, end tables, and a dresser under the window. “I really appreciate you letting us stay here.”

Before Castiel can answer, Dean is suddenly at his elbow and pointing at the bathroom. “What’s the water pressure situation like with the shower?”

“I –” He swallows, having realized that he’s cornered himself unless he ducks into his bedroom, and even then the only escape would be out the window over his bed. “I have no idea.”

Dean frowns and looks Castiel over. “You don’t bathe?”

“I don’t _shower_.”

“Oh!” He snaps his fingers and ends with pointing at Castiel. “You’re a _bath_ kind of guy!”

That’s more information about himself than he wanted to give. Thankfully, he’s saved from talking about it further by the beep of the coffee maker as it finishes brewing a pot. He pulls his house coat around himself a little tighter. “Are we done here?”

“One last thing.” Sam stays in the doorway to the guest room and holds out his hand. “We never formally introduced ourselves. I’m Sam Winchester and this is my older brother, Dean.”

Castiel eyes his hand warily before shaking it. “Castiel Novak.”

Dean also offers his hand and, like Sam, he lets go after a quick shake – thank God. “How many people just call you ‘Cas’?”

“Almost everyone?” Sometimes Anna calls him Cassie when she really wants to annoy him, but those moments are few and far between. He’s definitely not going to mention that.

“Well, add me to the list.” Dean’s nose wrinkles and he sticks his tongue out slightly. “I don’t think my tongue can twist enough to say that – and I have a _very_ talented tongue, FYI.” He ends with a wink and Castiel has to look away.

The uneasy feeling in his belly is starting to bubble and all he wants is to grab his coffee and hide in his bedroom. Castiel isn’t naïve enough not to notice flirting when he sees it, but God help him if he knows how to react when it’s directed at _him_. Especially when he’s already in an uncomfortable situation.

Sam must be able to sense that, because he frowns at Dean. “Why don’t you go take that shower you’ve been complaining about missing?”

“Good idea.” Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and starts back the way they came. “We gotta go get our bags from the car. C’mon, Sammy.”

As soon as they both go down the stairs to the foyer, Castiel all but runs for the kitchen. He pours himself a travel mug of coffee because it holds more than any normal mug that he owns, and grabs a protein bar from the box he keeps in the pantry for when he doesn’t feel like cooking. The Winchesters are still outside and he quickly steals away to his bedroom, making sure to lock the door behind him.

Castiel can hear them come back into the house; the sound of the front door opening and closing; the rumble of inaudible voices; the thud of footsteps on the stairs. All things that he’s so unused to hearing in his home. It feels weird to have people here, even when Anna and Aunt Amara are there. He’s become too used to the silence in the six years that he’s been living alone.

While listening to the sound of the brothers moving around and getting settled, Castiel stares at the wall and sips at his coffee. He nibbles the protein bar every now and then, but he’s too distracted to actual taste the _cookies and cream _simulated flavour. There are two people – practically _strangers_ – in his house. Two people who plan to stay here for at _least_ a few days, and Castiel has no idea what to do about any of it.

He should have said no. Is it too late? Can he just go out there and tell them he changed his mind? God, no. He can’t. He wants to throw up just thinking about confronting them like that.

This would be so much easier if he wasn’t such a – Well, Anna calls him a hermit. Aunt Amara calls him a recluse. Castiel calls himself a survivor. This is the only way he knows to keep himself from being jailed as an unregistered. But because of that, it’s been decades since he really had to deal with people outside of his family or his job. And even then, everyone associated with his job is usually dealt with either over the phone or via email – except for the rare occasion when a courier is sent out to him.

Those are few and far between. Most doctors find it easier to simply forward him digital recordings, and his publisher prefers using digital documents shared through a secure server that he logs into from home. It’s certainly easier for him to turn on _Tracked Changes_ in a Microsoft Word document than it is to fill page after printed page with red ink just for someone to have to manually make those changes in the original manuscript later.

Even when Anna drags him out to go grocery shopping, Castiel hardly deals with people. She usually talks to the taxi drivers for him, and he _might_ say one or two words to the cashiers when ringing up his purchases. If the store offers self-checkout, he always chooses that option no matter how much he’s buying at the time. The less people he has to deal with, the better.

Everything about Castiel’s life has been perfectly arranged so he _wouldn’t_ have to deal with people. No one but family can be trusted. Everyone else is so… unpredictable. They haven’t earned his trust and – and he should have said _no_.

Somewhere in his distracted eating, Castiel manages to finish off both his coffee and his protein bar. With nothing else left for him to do, he goes to the half-bath attached to his room. His reflection catches him off guard. He’s never seen himself _this_ pale before. At least he’s not shaking anymore. That’s an improvement, certainly, but he still feels rattled to his core over this whole situation.

It takes far too long for him to realize that the rushing sound isn’t the blood in his ears but the shower running in the main bathroom on the other side of the wall. Dean must be showering now. Castiel’s insides twist and he briefly feels like throwing up. This is _real_. They’re actually _staying_. They’re using his bathroom, his kitchen, his guest room.

A lump is pushing at the back of his throat and Castiel swallows against it. He closes his eyes and starts counting his breaths again. It helps to calm him down and he gets all the way to two hundred and fourteen before someone knocks at his bedroom door.

“Cas?” Sam calls out and knocks again. “Sorry to bother you, but do you have WiFi?”

He exhales slowly and steps out of the bathroom. “I do. I’ll be out in just a moment.”

Castiel tightens his house coat again while trying to hold onto that brief moment of calm that he had found. His house coat is big, fluffy, and it makes him look twice his size. He wears it no matter the time of year, not only for comfort but because it’s an easy way to quickly hide his secret should anyone come to the door unexpectedly. Until today, that had never happened before.

The key to his office is kept on a hook in his closet. Castiel quickly grabs it before ducking out into the hallway. Sam is leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets and he steps out of the way. He takes a few steps after him, but stops when he realizes that the destination is the office. Thankfully, Sam waits where he is while Castiel unlocks the door and quickly slips inside.

He has a magnetic whiteboard mounted to the wall next to the door. It’s essentially just a giant _To Do_ list where he tracks which files need to be worked on and their deadlines. Castiel also uses a variety of magnets (a set of bees and honeycombs that Anna bought for him) to post important documents or note reminders. One such paper is the convoluted string of numbers, characters, and letters that make up the Wi-Fi password.

Once he’s retrieved the needed paper, Castiel locks the door behind him again and holds it out. Here. When you’re done, just slip it under my office door.”

“Thanks, Cas!” Sam actually looks _excited_ and all but skips off back towards the living room. He likely set up his laptop either there or in the dining room.

Castiel watches him briefly before returning to his bedroom. He glances around, unsure what to do with himself. His phone is still lying on the side table where he was charging it overnight. The retro alarm clock next to it belonged to his parents. Its old flipping numbers flick over, showing that it’s not long past nine o’clock. He still wouldn’t normally be awake for another fifty minutes at least.

He _should_ be making a productive use of his early start by getting dressed and starting work, but there’s far more pressing things going on right now. So pressing, in fact, that he feels it all like a physical weight on his shoulders. Despite the short time that he’s been awake, Castiel feels _exhausted_.

After making sure the door is locked again, he sheds his house coat. He flops face first on the bed and spreads out across its surface, taking up as much of it as he can. His cell phone is mocking him in the silence, almost begging for him to pick it up and text Anna or his aunt to let them know that he has… Is _guests _even the right word? Castiel might have allowed them to stay, but he still feels vaguely blackmailed into it even though they were very clear in giving him the option to turn them away.

It’s easier to do nothing.

The pipes hiss and stop rattling when Dean finally finishes his shower. Sam is apparently in no rush to have one, as another doesn’t start up shortly after. It’s still an almost unending length of time before the distant muted mumble of voices can be heard. Castiel only lifts his head out of his pillow when he hears the familiar _boom_ of the front door closing. Shortly after, the deep rumble of the car’s engine starts up and then grows faint until he can’t hear it anymore.

For one moment, his heart lifts with hope that they might have left, but it sinks moments later at the sound of footsteps coming up the hall. They sound like they go into the guest room and Castiel assumes that Sam must still be here. Dean must have left and he has no idea where he might have gone – not that he even cares. As long as it’s not _here_, he’s happy.

Castiel rests his cheek on his pillow instead of hiding his whole face in it again. He sighs and watches the clock, counting the minutes as they flip by. Counting really helps focus and center him. It’s something his parents taught him when he first started having panic attacks as a child. He probably wouldn’t have had them if they had just registered him when he presented, but there’s nothing that can be done about it now. And he loves his parents. They were always there for him and did the best they could while protecting him from a world that hates his kind.

Sixty-seven minutes pass before he hears the rumble of the engine again. It’s fairly loud for him to be able to hear it in his bedroom on the other side of the house from the driveway. He’s always been rather sensitive to sounds, but the walls aren’t exactly thick either.

The front door opens and closes a few times before another set of footsteps is stomping around the house. Castiel flinches at the first bang of cupboards in the kitchen. Ah, Dean must have gone to the grocery store. It makes sense, since Castiel was running a little low on some things and they did say they would pay for their stay with food.

Still, the banging is annoying and he contemplates getting up to complain. But it stops after a short while. It’s not long before a tantalizing scent starts filtering into the room from the small gap under the door. Castiel’s mouth waters at the smell of bacon, and – is that sausages? His stomach gurgles and twists. Apparently the protein bar wasn’t enough to fill him up.

Thankfully, Sam knocks on his door not too much later. “Cas? Dean made a big brunch as thanks for letting us stay here. We would really like it if you would join us.”

For a moment, he does debate not answering, or at least refusing the request. But he’s hungry and it smells _really _good. Castiel doubts that he would be able to just sit here and smell it without getting to taste it. And – Well, they’re going to be staying here, right? Is he going to spend every day in his bedroom or office? He has to see them again at some point.

With a sigh, Castiel pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed. “I need to change and get ready first. I’ll join you shortly.”

“Great!” There’s a sharp noise, like Sam clapped his hands together. “We’ll wait for you.”

His footsteps pad away back down the hall. Castiel waits until he doesn’t hear anything outside his bedroom before he stands up. Without the house coat, he’s only wearing his pajama pants and boxers beneath them. He kicks them off into the dirty pile of laundry in the corner by the closet. It’s an excellent place to keep it because he can open the closet and get a change of clothes right away.

A low dresser sits inside the closet underneath his hanging shirts. He gets a new set of boxers and a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, putting them on before closing the drawers. From the hangers he takes out one of his larger un-altered t-shirts and tosses that onto the bed.

The closet doors are mirrored and he stares at himself in the reflection after closing it. He rolls his shoulders and stretches his arms above his head, watching the subtle shift of muscle. His stomach is softer around the belly button because he doesn’t work out in the basement nearly as often as he should. If he bothers to do anything, it’s just walking on the treadmill while reading a book.

He never would have been able to get away with ignoring the weights if his parents were still alive. They were firm believers that he needed to work his entire body – especially since he never went out and did anything (for good reason).

Castiel flexes his back and spreads his secret – his _wings_ – out to get a good look at them. The feathers are an inky kind of black, but they’re dull from lack of upkeep and they’re _short_. He clips the longer feathers until they’re the same length as some of the shorter ones. Now his feathers barely reach past the small of his back. It makes them easier to hide under his coat when he goes outside.

If he could, he would have been rid of his wings a long time ago. The arches of his wings _should_ be above his head all the time, however Castiel keeps them folded as tight as he can get them whenever he has to be around other people. He keeps the arches curved as flat against the backs of his shoulders as he can get them. If he keeps them like that for longer than a few hours, they start to cramp up and that can get fairly painful.

He has a custom binder that he made himself, courtesy of many sewing lessons from his mother, which he wears to keep his wings held down. The binder is usually reserved for when he leaves the house. When at home, Castiel prefers to spend his time either shirtless or simply wearing one of his modified shirts that has space to accommodate his wings. He does have some normal t-shirts in sizes that are far too large for him, just so he can wear them over his wings when he goes out. It’s another layer for him to hide under and that’s how he likes it.

Unfortunately, now that Castiel has strangers in his house, he should probably wear the binder at home too. It’s hanging on a hook on the back of his bedroom door and he frowns at it. As useful as it is, he hates the damn thing. His wings always hurt after wearing it for too long, and it’s so tight that he always feels like it could squeeze the breath out of him – even though he can breathe just fine in it.

With a sigh, he pulls the binder off the hook and slips his arms through the loops. It takes some maneuvering to ensure his wings are folded as close to his back as he can make them _under_ the binder. Once in place, he pulls it tight and buttons up the front of it. Next is the shirt. He’s not going to sit down and have brunch with strangers while naked from the waist up.

Now with his wings bound and a t-shirt covering them, Castiel feels more comfortable about leaving his house coat loose in the front. He still ties it, but it’s open enough that he doesn’t feel suffocated by wearing so many layers.

Castiel does consider wasting a few more minutes by trying to tame the rat’s nest that he calls hair, or even shaving. But the fact that Dean and Sam are both waiting for him to begin eating is just too much for his conscience to bear. For someone who doesn’t deal with other people often, Castiel is perhaps _too_ nice of a person.

He finds the Winchesters waiting for him in the dining room. They’re seated next to each other on one side of the table, and a third plate is set out across from them. Castiel carefully takes his seat, his back to the kitchen. The table is big enough to seat six – two on each side and one on either end. It’s been a very long time since Castiel has had a need for the end chairs. They’ve been gathering dust in the storage area of the basement for years now.

The chairs themselves were chosen specifically because of his mutation. They’ve got surprisingly low backs compared to most dining chairs. If he didn’t have his wings bound, Castiel would have been able to lean against the back of the chair without it pressing into the joints of his wings. As they are right now, he has to stay seated forward slightly, and he hopes that the brothers don’t notice or don’t find it weird if they do.

But Dean is watching him. There’s a quick, calculating look in his eyes that sets Castiel’s feathers on edge. He has the feeling that Dean must _suspect_ something about his mutation. Even if he does, Castiel has no intention of mentioning it. In fact, he acts like he doesn’t even notice and instead takes stock of the food before him.

All three of their plates are already piled high with scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausages, and at least two pancakes – Dean’s plate has _four_. Even more food is stacked on serving plates in the center of the table between them. It’s more than enough food for three people as far as Castiel can tell, and this might actually be a meal that satisfies him.

“You went grocery shopping.” It’s not a question. Castiel already assumed he had just by what he had heard, but the food proves it. He was running low on groceries and had plans to go with Anna tomorrow, and he _definitely_ didn’t have sausages in his fridge – or chocolate milk!

“Damn right I did.” Dean nods and picks up his fork to cut out a large piece of his pancake. “Stocked your cupboards and everything.” He shoves the pancake into his mouth and continues talking with his cheek full, lips smeared with syrup. “Y’know, as part of our payment for letting us stay. No one can ever say a Winchester doesn’t pay their way.”

Sam rolls his eyes and the look he gives Castiel before he starts eating is one that speaks of a long suffering. Apparently Dean’s table manners have always been atrocious. The only comment Castiel has to make on it is to take one of the napkins from the holder that always sits in the middle of the table. He holds it out for Dean to take and gets a sheepish grin in return.

“You not hungry?” Dean gestures with the napkin at Castiel’s untouched plate before he wipes his mouth. “I make a _mean_ flapjack, and I’m gonna be insulted if you don’t try it.”

Heat burns across the back of his neck and Castiel ducks his head. He murmurs a quiet thank you for the meal and moves on automatic; picking up the fork and knife to start meticulously cutting everything on his plate into manageable pieces.

Dean seems pacified by this and he turns his attention to Sam. “Did you get your laptop all set up?”

“Yeah, Cas gave me the Wi-Fi password.”

Dean swallows his mouthful and immediately eats half a sausage in one bite. “Great. Did you pull up the network, or did you waste time with catching up on all your subscriptions first?” Castiel glances up to find Sam pointedly not looking at his brother. Dean sighs. “You had _one job_, Sammy.”

“I got distracted, so sue me.” Sam wrinkles his nose and pretends to be very interested in his glass of chocolate milk.

There’s a carton of it on the table and Castiel can’t remember the last time he actually had some. He pours himself a glass and doesn’t miss the pleased grin Dean flashes him before he turns a frown back on Sam. There’s a very _judging_ air around him while he chews the sausage and immediately moves on to a piece of bacon.

After a few moments of silence, Sam puts his milk down. There’s a thin layer of it along his top lip and he wipes it off with the back of his hand. “Oh my God, relax. I’ll check the network after we clean up the disaster you made in the kitchen.”

Castiel hadn’t even thought about the kitchen and he’s halfway out of his seat to go check on it when Dean scoffs loudly. “Ex_cuse_ you! I clean while I cook and that kitchen is fucking _spotless_ now that I’m done with it.” He gestures at the table with his fork. “This is the only mess to clean up.”

Thankfully he swallows his mouthful before facing Castiel again. “And, by the way, your kitchen is _awesome_. It’s been a long damn time since I got to cook in an actual _kitchen_.”

As he gestures with his fork, Castiel watches a little fleck of egg fly from it and land between them. Dean immediately grabs his napkin to wipe it up, talking the whole while. Apparently his table manners aren’t _that_ bad. Chews like a pig, but is clean and meticulous otherwise. It’s an interesting juxtaposition and Castiel can’t believe that this is really his life. He’s actually _observing_ strangers when he should be hiding in his office and calling his family, or the police.

Instead of doing any of that, Castiel swallows a piece of pancake and opens his mouth to ask more questions. “What network were you talking about?”

Sam smiles, small and pleased. “It’s the Hunter Network.”

Castiel briefly wonders if he is still attuned to his emotions. If so, can Sam tell that curiosity is winning out over his fear? Even so, Castiel still plans to hide after brunch. He has work to do and he’d rather be safe in his office while they rob him blind than not at all. Most of his really important things are in there anyway. And the emotionally important items… Well, those are the kind of things he doubts that they would take.

“Is that related to your bounty hunting job?”

“Yeah, it’s a kind of an intranet that we use to access jobs and see who’s doing what.”

Dean nods along as Sam explains. It brings up a million questions, and none of them Castiel thinks are appropriate to ask. He flicks through each of them before deciding on one. “And those are the jobs of mutants hunting mutants.”

“Well, not _all_ the time.” Dean interjects, his plate almost empty by now and he seems to have slowed down. “Sometimes it’s just regular people being dicks and jumping their bail bonds. Or there’s someone the authorities are having trouble finding, so they hire us to sniff them out. All the jobs anyone wants goes into this network where hunters all across the country can access them.”

Sam picks up where Dean leaves off to finish the rest of the food on his plate. “Essentially, we log in to look through what jobs are available. If it’s one we like, we can claim it. Other hunters are able to see who takes what job, and they can even send messages through the network if they’ve got information on their mark or try and ask to trade the job for another. It’s pretty nice.”

Dean starts filling his plate again with seconds. “And then when you mark a job as completed, the folks who run the network notify whoever made the request. If it’s a good job, you get full pay. Otherwise they can dock it. Most of it is pretty automatic though. Payments are taken by the company that hosts network the moment the job is posted and usually get transferred within a few days of the job being completed to the hunter’s account.”

Castiel moves through his own plate a lot slower than either Winchester, but he’s never been one to gulp his food down. “It sounds like the whole system is set up to guarantee payment. A request can’t even be made unless they have the money to back it up.”

“Exactly!” Sam smiles brightly, though they both nod and seem clearly happy that not only is Castiel listening, but he’s actually understanding what they’re talking about. “It’s a nice way to keep in touch with hunter friends too. Everyone has a kind of profile you can go into to see what kind of jobs they’ve been taking. It’s a great way to keep track of who has settled down to work in one specific area, or who roam like Dean and I do. We’re actually using it to try and track our dad.”

Dean makes a choking noise in the midst of taking a large sip from his glass. He coughs and thumps himself on the chest a few times before shooting Sam a dirty look. “_Dude_.”

“What?” Sam raises an eyebrow, looking for all the world like he has no idea what’s going on. “Sorry, was that a no-go topic?”

“Well, _duh_.”

The way they stare each other down, Castiel can’t help but wonder if maybe Dean might secretly be a telepath. They seem to be having a conversation with merely their eyes, because Sam eventually lifts his hands in a gesture that is – well, it could be a dismissal, or in defense, or an apology. Castiel isn’t exactly an expert in reading the body language of strangers.

He does find it interesting, however, that Dean is against speaking about their dad. Yesterday they mentioned that they didn’t know where he was, and Castiel hadn’t asked about it then. Of course he isn’t going to ask now either – especially not with how Dean reacted. Even though he’s curious, what’s the point of knowing more information? If he’s lucky, the Winchesters will be gone within a day or two and he’ll hopefully never see them again.

A bit of a shiver makes his feathers tremble against the small of his back when he realizes that it’s very possible they might remember him. If they come back for the next anniversary of their mother’s death, they might try and stay with him again.

Oh God, why did he think of that? Now he’s going to be worrying about it _all year_. It’s not like moving is really an option for him. Not only is their job literally to _find_ people, but Castiel isn’t willing to give up his home. This is the safest place for him. It’s a comfortable distance from town with no immediate neighbours and more than enough trees that he can go outside without worrying that someone might see his wings.

Aside from a few artful islands of grass, plants, and flowerbeds out front, the entire front lawn and up along the sides of the house) have been replaced with a gravel drive and paths. If he was in the backyard, Castiel would be able to hear an engine or the crunch of gravel long before anyone would be able to make it around to see him. And those are the exact reasons why he brings his overcoat outside with him even if he doesn’t plan to wear it. He’d rather have it with him in the eventuality that someone does randomly show up than to be caught without it and for someone to find out his secret.

Once Dean finishes glaring at his brother, he turns back to Castiel with an abrupt change of topic. “So, what’s your muta–?” Sam backhands him in the shoulder before he’s finished speaking. Dean frowns at him again. “What?”

“That’s _rude_.”

And also incredibly panic inducing. It had risen sharply enough in Castiel’s chest that he’s not even sure he can finish swallowing his last piece of bacon. Sam can probably feel that jagged anxiety even without having his ‘_antenna on_’.

Dean gestures with his fork again. “Well, he knows _your_ powers. How come we can’t know his?”

Sam’s mouth twists slightly before he sighs. “It’s pretty hypocritical of you to ask about his powers when you haven’t even told him what _yours_ are.” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “If you’re not willing to share too, then you shouldn’t be asking about it.”

There’s a tense moment between them before Dean’s lips press into a thin line. He looks back down at his food and returns to it with a subdued enthusiasm as opposed to his earlier vigor. The topic seems well and truly dropped, but Castiel has quite suddenly lost his appetite. There’s very little left on his plate – a forkful of eggs and a couple cubes of hash browns. He does finish off his chocolate milk, if only to wash down the lump currently trying to find a home for itself in the center of his throat.

Once the glass is empty, Castiel pushes his chair back from the table. “Thank you for cooking, Dean. The food was delicious.”

His head pops up again, any irritation gone in an instant. “Yeah, you liked it?” Dean sits up a little straighter and gestures to what food remains. “I can make lunch and supper too. If you’re cool with it, just leave all the cooking to me!”

“If that’s what you want.” Castiel doesn’t feel right _asking_ him to do it, but he won’t stop him if that’s what Dean wants to do. Rarely does anyone else cook for him in his own home. He always takes care of his guests, and even Anna and his aunt don’t cook when they’re here.

To be fair, though, Castiel isn’t actually all that fond of cooking. Every recipe is always for _more _people and he’s just – well, he’s _one_ person. He spends most meals alone, even though Anna comes over as often as she can. She does take home plenty of leftovers for her and her mom, but it’s not the same as having someone to sit down and eat every meal with.

Some of the serving plates on the table are mostly empty now. At some point between the bickering and the conversations, both Sam had also taken seconds. Castiel probably would have too, had he not eaten that protein bar earlier and if his nerves weren’t on a wild roller coaster ride. If Anna was here, the food wouldn’t have lasted very long. A high metabolism seems to be common for all mutants – or at least the ones he knows so far. It makes sense, given that their biology requires more energy and eats up a lot of calories to account for their powers. Granted, Castiel’s powers are mostly physical and there’s nothing really _special_ to them. Not like Sam’s, or whatever Dean’s power is.

He stands and starts gathering up the empty dishes and amalgamating the mostly empty ones onto the same plate. Dean waves his hands and loudly swallows his current mouthful. “You don’t have to clean up, Cas. I’ll do it since I’m the one that made the mess.”

“I thought you _didn’t_ make a mess.” Sam murmurs, not quite under his breath. It earns him a swift elbow to the side.

“It’s fine.” Castiel shakes his head and stacks the dishes. He quickly takes them to the kitchen and it’s easier to breathe once he’s in a different room.

Surprisingly, Dean was being truthful. He really did leave the kitchen quite clean. Loathe to mess that up, Castiel simply rinses the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. He winces when he glances at the clock and notes that it’s nearly half past eleven – nearly an hour past when he would have normally started work. Which means if he wants to get a full eight hours in, he’s going to be working into the evening – _ugh_.

Castiel quickly returns to his bedroom, now locking the door behind him by habit. He skips shaving like he usually would, but he washes his face, brushes his teeth and runs a comb through the tangles in his hair. Even though he works from home and often stays in his pajama bottoms all day, Castiel does like to make an effort to be presentable. It helps to keep a professional mindset, despite being on his own.

The key to his office is still in his pocket, so all he grabs is his cell phone before leaving. His bedroom and office both require the same key, and he locks his room behind him. The linen closet is between the office door and the guest room door. From it he gathers a spare set of sheets and pillow cases. He brings them to the living room and puts them on the couch so Dean can make his ‘_bed_’ later on if he wants.

“Hey, sweet. Thanks, Cas!” Dean calls out from where he’s still seated at the dining table with Sam.

“I will get you the spare blanket and pillows from the basement after I’m done work.” Castiel heads into the kitchen to fill a water bottle from the filtered jug he keeps in the fridge.

Sam enters the kitchen too, empty dishes in hand. “When will you be back from work? Dean, did you park in front of the garage?”

“I work from home.” He answers before Dean can. “And I don’t have a car. If you wanted to park yours in the garage, be my guest. The button to open the door is on the garage wall next to the door from the dining room. You can’t miss it.” With water bottle in hand, he turns to find both Dean and Sam now in the kitchen. “I’ll be in my office for the next four hours. I usually break for something to eat around then. If you need anything, please knock.”

Dean dumps his dishes in the sink before turning to rest his hip against it. “What do you do?”

“I’m a copy editor and transcriptionist, so you might need to knock hard and repeatedly if I don’t answer right away. A portion of my job requires that I listen to recordings and I might not hear you if I’ve got a playback going.”

“That sounds – uh – neat?” He doesn’t exactly sound sincere, but Castiel doesn’t mind. He knows that his job can sound boring to others – in particular to someone claiming to be something as exciting as a _bounty hunter_.

Castiel shrugs and gestures in the direction of the living room. “I have a smart TV, so feel free to use whatever is on it. There is Netflix, if you’d like, but I’d prefer if you would log me out and use your own account if you have one.”

“Yeah, of course.” Dean bobs his head in a nod, a grin already spreading. “Wouldn’t want your recommendations to start filling up with all my rom-coms.” He ends with a wink that Castiel chooses to ignore completely.

“Thank you.” He nods at them both and goes to leave the kitchen by the hall entry. “Enjoy your day.”

Sam calls out after him. “You too!”

Once his office door is locked securely behind him, Castiel breathes out heavily through his nose. He normally leaves the window open in his office to get as much sunlight and fresh air as possible, but today he lowers the blinds _and _closes the curtains. After making sure that no one would be able to peek in from outside, he takes off his house coat and hangs it on the hook on the back of the door. He fumbles enough of his shirt off so that he can also remove the binding and he instantly feels better with his wings now able to stretch free.

He’ll have to bind them again when he goes in search of lunch, but at least in the safety of his office he can relax. In a matter of hours his life has turned upside down, but he’s not reeling from it nearly as much as he would expect to be. Maybe it will hit him harder later? Or tomorrow when he wakes up to find them here again? Castiel isn’t sure, but seriously _what the hell is his life right now_?

With cellphone in hand, he slumps into his low-backed office chair. The computer’s tower sits on the left side of his corner desk and he holds down until it starts to hum. While it powers up, he quickly sends a text to Anna.

* * *

**_I don’t think I’m feeling up to a visit today._  
** _Read 11:42am_

_You were off all night yesterday. Is everything okay?_

** _Everything is fine. I’m just not feeling well._ **

** _We can postpone grocery shopping another week too._ **

**_I’ll let you know when I’m feeling better._  
** _Read 11:45am_

_Are you sure?_

_Do you have enough food to last until next week?_

** _Yes, I’ll be fine. _ **

**_There’s plenty of canned soup to live off of._  
** _Read 11:47am_

_Okay… Keep me posted!_

_I won’t tell mom about this._

_Otherwise she’d be over with that godawful chicken soup of hers in a hot second!_

** _She only does it because she cares._ ** _  
Read 11:51am_

_But it’s soooooooo gross!_

* * *

Castiel huffs the closest thing he can to a laugh and sets his phone aside. He swivels his chair around to look at his white board and see what needs to be done today, desperate for something to distract him from the noises in the kitchen and dining room.

It seems the first thing on his list today is editing. _Ugh_. And of course the manuscript is due next week while he still has about a third of it left to go. He might as well work on that and try to finish it all today. Castiel firmly believes in getting things done ahead of deadlines – just in case something might come up. His whole morning simply proves his ideology in that regard.

His work station has two monitors and a lovely picture of a nebula spreads across both of them. Unfortunately, he has to cover it up with the programs he needs. On one screen he starts opening the files needed for the manuscript, and on the other he opens his email. Aside from general spam, which he deletes quickly, there is a notice from one of his usual clients about a medical recording that needs transcribing. Those usually need to be done as soon as possible.

He adds a note about it to the whiteboard and places a sticky-note on the edge of one of his monitors to remind him to work on it later today. Right now, as much as he doesn’t want to continue editing the drivel that amounts to his current manuscript, Castiel would rather be able to hear. That way he can keep an ear out for if Dean or Sam start getting up to no good. Currently, all he can hear is subdued murmuring and the occasional thump as they clean up.

Since they just ate brunch, Castiel has his doubts that Dean will make anything for lunch. In four hours – for which he sets a timer to remind him to take a break – maybe he’ll go out and make a sandwich. All he needs is a little snack to tide him over until his usual late dinner time.

If he _really _doesn’t want to go back outside to face them, then Castiel has plenty of snacks in here that he could eat. One of the desk drawers is full of individual baggies of chips, Oreos, and what not, and those should be enough to get him through several days – not that he plans to sequester himself in here for that long.

As he gets starting on editing, Castiel can’t help but wonder about what they’ll be having for supper. Credit where credit is due – Dean is one _hell _of a cook if brunch is a good example of his skills. In fact, Castiel might even be looking forward to it.

But only a little bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic Header by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Saturday – November 4th, 2017_ **

With a quiet groan, Castiel rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself onto his hands and knees. He stretches like a cat, curving his back first up and then down until the muscles in his arms and thighs tremble. His wings arch upwards, feathers spreading until they shake just like the rest of him. With a satisfied sound in the back of his throat, he collapses to the bed again and muffles a jaw-cracking yawn into the pillow.

Despite having turned in much earlier than he normally would have, Castiel still feels so _tired_. He took forever to fall asleep and then he must have had some kind of fever dream, because no way did he actually allow two strangers to stay in his home. But then why is he awake? Castiel lifts his head and squints at the barely illuminated tabs of his alarm clock. It’s still an hour before his alarm is supposed to go off. He rarely ever wakes up before his alarm unless something else woke him.

The sound of a door closing out in the hallway clues him in that yesterday was _not_ a dream. Castiel groans and drops his face back into the pillow. After a moment of silence, the toilet flushes and the pipes rumble with water. Of course he’s not used to hearing someone else using the bathroom or moving around the house while he’s sleeping, so _of course_ that would wake him. Not only did he allow strangers to stay in his home, but they’re _morning people_.

Ugh.

He pulls the pillow over his head and tries not to think about how terrible today is going to be. Obviously Dean and Sam are still here. Worse yet, they’re here and it’s a _Saturday_ – which means that Castiel doesn’t work today. It’s supposed to be his day off and he doesn’t really want to work, but then what else is he going to do?

If he doesn’t hide from them in his office, then the only other option would be hiding from them in his bedroom. Perhaps he could go outside? But what would he do out there? It’s been steadily getting colder since the middle of October, and Castiel already turned the gardens down for the winter. And it’s not like he has some kind of workshop or something in the garage to keep him busy. That’s mostly just empty space that only gets filled when Aunt Amara parks her car there.

And then part of Castiel feels bad for avoiding his guests. They _must _know that he’s been hiding from them. He took the sandwich Dean made him for lunch and ate it in his office yesterday afternoon, and dinner was ready for him when he finished work. Kraft dinner mac & cheese with grilled cheese sandwiches was a simple fare compared to their massive breakfast, but it was certainly satisfying. But after eating, and a quick clean, Castiel had retired straight to his bedroom.

He had tried to read himself to sleep, but he could hardly focus on his book because the house wasn’t quiet. Castiel is used to _silence_, but the brothers were watching TV together after eating. It wasn’t very loud and Castiel couldn’t even tell what they were watching, but there was still _noise_ where there shouldn’t be. Sometimes he’ll have the radio playing as something to listen to while he’s cooking or while he’s doing chores, but it’s never playing when he’s in his bedroom.

In all honesty, Castiel half expected not to make it through the night. If he hadn’t just heard one of the brothers using the bathroom, he would already assume that he would find his house empty of all his valuables once leaving his room. Granted, his sensitivity to the sounds of other people moving around his house probably would have woken him up if they _had_ started stealing from him in the middle of the night – but the paranoia is still there.

Strangely, though, he did manage to get some sleep. When he went to bed last night, he fully expected to spend the entire night staring at the wall and imagining the various ways they might try to kill him. But after hearing Sam retire to the guest room, and the living room go quiet, Castiel must have felt safe enough to fall asleep at some point. Either that or mental exhaustion decided he didn’t get a say.

But he’s alive, the Winchesters are still here, and Castiel is faced with another day of them.

It’s not long after the bathroom goes quiet with the smell of fresh brewed coffee sneaks under his door. He groans again before forcing himself to get out of bed. How can he deny himself the bitter nectar of the Gods?

After a quick clean up in the bathroom, he binds his wings and wraps himself in his housecoat. His coffee maker is so old that there isn’t a timer function on it, so one of the brothers must have started it himself. Castiel could certainly afford a new one, but he’s – Well, the correct term is _frugal_. This one works just fine, so why should he get a better one that could have coffee ready for when he wakes up?

Unsurprisingly, Castiel finds Dean standing at the counter next to the stove. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants while swinging his hips and humming to himself. It’s a tune that Castiel doesn’t recognize, but he watches him dance until Dean turns around. There’s a block of cheese in his hand that he’s trying to fit into a Ziploc baggie.

Dean jumps in surprise and almost drops the cheese when he sees him in the doorway. He brings a hand up to his heart briefly before pulling his earbuds out. “Holy shit, Cas. You scared the crap outta me.” He grins and continues to put the cheese away in the fridge. “Excellent timing, though. The coffee will be ready in a minute and today is _omelette day_. What d’you want in yours?”

Before Castiel can even think to answer, Dean tosses the cheese into the special slot on the fridge door and turns with a flourish to the bowls he has lined up next to the stove. “I’ve got bacon, I've got ham, I've got peppers, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, cheese, and whatever else your heart desires!”

“Do you always go all out for breakfast?”

“Only when I’m trying to impress someone.” Dean winks at him again and returns to the stove. “Why? Is it working?”

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to the cupboard to pull two mugs out. He ignores the question entirely and hesitates at getting a third mug. “Will Sam be having any coffee?” The guest room door had been open when he left his bedroom, and he didn’t see Sam in the bathroom.

“Probably when he gets back.” Dean shrugs and dumps some oil into the pan while it heats up. “He’s a weirdo and he’s out jogging right now. Y’know, like a _weirdo_.”

“In this weather?” Castiel can see that half the backyard is shrouded in fog and his phone was showing forty-four degrees when he checked it while getting ready. “Isn’t it too cold?”

Dean snorts a laugh as he cracks a couple eggs into a bowl to start whisking them. “That doesn’t bother him. He’s full Elsa when he’s out there.”

“He’s _what_?”

“The cold doesn’t bother him anyway.” He looks over his shoulder and raises his eyebrow at Castiel, as if surprised that he doesn’t understand.

It still takes a moment for the _Disney’s Frozen_ reference to actually click. In Castiel’s defense, he hasn’t had his coffee yet. The moment the pot is finished brewing, he starts pouring a mug for himself and for Dean. “I see. If he would like to spare himself the outdoors, I do have a home gym in the basement. The _heated_ basement.”

Castiel is not a fan of the cold. It’s forty-four degrees out and he has thick socks on inside his slippers. Despite all the feathers and down that his wings have, they are also somewhat sensitive to the cold during the winter. He often covers them with a blanket when he’s working; no stranger to the feeling of having fabric over them – even if it isn’t the most comfortable. It’s still better than being _cold_.

He turns around with the mug between his hands, warming his fingers, just in time to catch Dean giving him a quick up-and-down glance over his shoulder. Dean shrugs and sprinkles a few of the ingredients and seasonings into the whisked egg. “I guess if you’re a hermit you’d at least want to be a hermit who gets some exercise, huh?”

“I had to have a Physical Education class somehow. Playing outside didn’t qualify, according to my parents.” Castiel shrugs and takes a sip before frowning at his coffee. He forgot the cream and sugar.

“Sorry, what?” Dean turns around with his whisk in hand, but Castiel ignores him in favour of making his coffee perfect so he can drink nirvana. “Were you home-schooled?”

The next sip is perfection and he sighs into it. He hums a short, content sound and leans a hip against the counter. When Castiel realizes that Dean is still waiting for an answer, he nods and continues to take small sips.

“Man, no wonder you’re so weird.” Dean shakes his head and turns back to mixing the omelette.

Now that’s just uncalled for. Castiel is aware that he can be a _little_ weird sometimes, but he doesn’t think any of that has to do with his homeschooling. “Excuse me?”

Dean uses the whisk to gesture at him, miraculously _not_ spraying egg or bits of ingredients all over the kitchen. “You’re not good with people, are you? You keep acting like Sam and I are going to eat you in your sleep or something.”

Castiel frowns and forces his wings not to bristle under his housecoat at the (only a _little_ bit accurate) assumption. “You’re two strangers who invited yourself to live in my home. How am I _not_ supposed to be nervous about that?”

“We totally offered you the chance to say ‘_no_’.” He shrugs and pours his omelette bowl into the pan, grinning as it starts sizzling immediately. “We wouldn’t have stayed without your consent. And we’ll leave right now if you tell us to go.”

While that might be the truth, Castiel still frowns at his back. “But you know I’m a mutant. You could have reported me if I turned you away yesterday.”

“And we still could even after we leave, whenever that is.” Dean shrugs and starts whisking another set of eggs in the bowl. “If anything, we should be the ones worried that _you’re _going to murder us to keep your secret safe.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I wouldn’t –”

“You wouldn’t and neither would we.” Dean nods solemnly, as if that settles the matter. “And even if you _were_ thinking about it, Sammy would have picked up on that already. If you _do_ get any weird ideas, I figure you should be aware that we’re both really good with weapons and hand to hand combat. Trained by the best of the best and all that.”

That makes sense, given the nature of their jobs. Castiel hadn’t really thought about all that when he learned about their jobs and their _tranquilizer guns_. They use weapons! It’s entirely possible that they have actual bullets and real guns and –

His thoughts must be showing on his face, because Dean sets his bowl aside and crosses the kitchen to pat him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. We didn’t bring any of that inside. It’s all still in the trunk of my baby and you’re welcome to check our bags if you want to be sure about it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Castiel steps out of the way for Dean to make his own cup of coffee. He makes a face when Dean just picks it up as is – no cream, sugar, milk or anything to make it not taste horrible – and returns to the stove to drink it black.

Any further conversation is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. A few moments later, Sam is walking into the kitchen bundled up in a mismatched sweat suit and a headband. He smiles brightly when he sees him. “Good morning!”

“Hey, Sammy!” Dean calls over his shoulder while he flips the omelette. “Cas says there’s a home gym in the basement.”

“Really?” He steps up next to Castiel to start pouring his own coffee. Like a civilized person, he adds a bit of cream. “That’s awesome. Would you mind if we use it?”

Castiel shakes his head and makes a vague wave towards the stairs. “As long as you stay out of the storage room for anything other than your laundry, you’re welcome to use the gym.”

“Great, thanks.” Sam takes a quick sip of his coffee before downing almost all of it in a few quick gulps. Apparently _heat_ doesn’t bother him either. “Does anyone mind if I take a quick shower before breakfast?” He glances at Castiel. “Do you want to use it first?”

“Be my guest.” Castiel takes another step out of the way so he’s standing in the corner and giving Sam plenty of room to get out of the kitchen. “I’ll likely take a bath after breakfast.”

With one last quick smile and thank you, Sam heads off to his bedroom before hitting the bathroom. It leaves Castiel alone with Dean again. For a brief moment he feels just a little bad about not having helped with preparations for breakfast. He could have diced some of the ingredients Dean has set aside for the omelette – some of which he’s adding now. But then he remembers that this is how they’re paying their rent and he doesn’t _need_ to help them.

“Are you going to spend the whole day in your office again?”

He had been expecting the question at some point this morning, but he’s still not ready to think about what he’s going to be doing all day. “I don’t know. It’s the weekend.”

“So?” Dean glances over his shoulder briefly before returning to focusing on cooking. “Don’t you make your own hours? Oh, could you bring me a couple plates?”

Castiel puts his coffee down to grab three plates from the cupboard. “I do, but I like to keep semi-regular business hours.” He places the plates next to Dean before quickly retreating to the other side of the kitchen again. “I usually work at least eight hours per week day and take the weekend off. But sometimes I do more since I get paid per minute of recording that I transcribe, or by the number of words that I edit. I don’t get paid by the number of hours I work.”

“Wow, that doesn’t sound very fair.” Dean throws a frown over his shoulder before sliding the omelette off the pan and onto one of the waiting plates. He immediately puts it into the microwave to keep it warm. “Why can’t you just track the hours that you work and then submit those?”

That’s a very good question, and not one that Castiel can answer. He’s never thought to ask his employers why they pay that way. “It is a bit skewed, I suppose, but there’s a reason I have _two_ incomes. They both pay alright in their own regard, as long as I get the work done. And I never take on more than I’m able to do.”

Dean hums thoughtfully while he adds ingredients to his whisked eggs again. “Whatever floats your boat, buddy. I know I’d go crazy being stuck in an office all day every day.”

“It’s better than being _registered_.” Though maybe he shouldn’t be saying that to someone who _is_ a registered mutant. But if anyone could understand what he means by that, it would be Dean.

Sure enough, he snorts and nods in agreement. “I’ll drink to that.”

“It’s barely past nine o’clock.” Castiel glances at the clock shaped like an apple with a bee swinging beneath it mounted above the window. It’s almost a quarter after. “You’re not _seriously_ drinking already, are you?” He hadn’t seen him add anything to his coffee, and what would be the point anyway? Dean has already said that he can’t get drunk.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, isn’t it?” Dean laughs, taking on a bit of a tune to his words.

Castiel is familiar with the song and he still shakes his head at it. “Yes, in _Finland_.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome. ” Dean laughs again and dumps the eggs into the pan to start omelette number two. “I’m just joking, Cas. I like the sauce as much as the next guy, but I don’t start drinking this early unless I’ve had a _really_ bad hunt. Not that it does me any good anyway.”

Now that his own coffee has been emptied, Castiel abandons the safety of his mug to ease up next to Dean and look at the ingredients he has available. “What constitutes a bad hunt?”

“Anything that ends with me using my powers and a visit to the hospital.”

The hoodie covers a lot of Dean’s scarring, but not the ones on his face or the white scarring on his hands. Castiel lingers on them a moment. “Did you get your scars from bad hunts?”

Dean shrugs and grabs a handful of cheese from a plate to throw into the pan. “Some of them.”

An unpleasant thought occurs then. He probably shouldn’t ask, but the question is already off his tongue before he can stop it. “Is scarring like yours common for a registered? My cousin hasn’t had it easy, but she’s never been _attacked_.” Castiel pauses, now feeling _worse_ for prying in the same way that he didn’t like how Dean was prying yesterday. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine.” Dean doesn’t take his eyes off the pan, but he does wave his free hand in the air between them. “And no, scars like mine are _definitely_ not common. Normies might not like us, but a lot of them won’t mess with a mutant – especially when they have no fucking clue what we’re capable of.”

That piques Castiel curiosity more than he cares to admit. Part of him wants to know more about Dean’s scars and how extensive they might be, but he bites his tongue instead. He moves a few of the bowls of diced ingredients, separating out the onions and mushrooms.

The rest he moves closer to the pan. “These for me, please.”

“Your wish is my command.” Dean lifts his head just enough to wink at him. When all Castiel does is blink at him in return, he sighs. “Man, your reactions _suck_.”

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” He keeps his voice as flat as possible, if only so it might discourage any further flirting. That uncomfortable bubble is back under his ribs, because how is he supposed to react to it? Should he ask him point blank to stop? Or is that just a part of Dean’s personality? There are certainly people out there who are just natural flirts. He’s not one of them, but he knows they exist.

To his surprise, Dean actually sticks his tongue out at him. In a fit of impulsiveness, Castiel responds in kind before turning away to get the utensils. A startled laugh follows him out of the kitchen as he goes to set the table. Once in the other room, he takes a moment to himself to breathe. While a bundle of nerves still vibrates somewhere in his chest, it’s not nearly as bad as yesterday. The more he talks with them, the less he finds himself afraid of them.

With the shower running down the hall, and Dean cooking in the kitchen, Castiel isn’t quite comfortable but he’s not entirely _un_comfortable. It’s a strange place to be and he isn’t quite sure how to handle it. He still plans to hide from them, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t? They are – for lack of a better word – interesting. Castiel has a lot of questions, and he is fairly curious, but what’s the point? He’ll learn about them and then they’ll leave and then – What?

Castiel mulls it all over as he continues to set the table. He sets out glasses and the chocolate milk, and the rest of the coffee pot on a trivet. Dean is almost finished with all three omelettes, but Castiel still pauses at the toaster and the bread next to it. “Are we having toast too?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Dean waves a hand at the pantry in the far corner. “I bought Nutella too!”

That almost puts a smile on his face – _almost_, but Castiel is loath to show that he likes something that either of the Winchesters has done. It _has_ been a long time since he last treated himself to something like Nutella and now he’s looking forward to breakfast even more than he was just from the delicious smell of the omelettes.

He pops four slices of bread into the toaster and while they cook at a _lightly toasted_ setting, because anything darker is pure sacrilege, Castiel sets out to gather all the multiple toast topping options that he has. With the new jar of Nutella, he also digs his aging jar of peanut-butter (crunchy, obviously) out of the cupboard. In the fridge, right next to the margarine, he also finds a jar of strawberry jam that was definitely not there yesterday morning.

“You really did buy everything, didn’t you?”

“Well, Cas, never let the record state anything about me not being a man who knows what he wants.”

Castiel straightens up with the jam in his hand and he turns to find Dean watching him from over his shoulder again. He can only see half of his small smile from this angle and it is just _baffling_. Dean is clearly flirting with him, but _why_? It has to be purely physical. They only just met the other day and they hardly know anything about each other.

Since he has no idea how to respond, Castiel simply stares at him with a confused frown. After a few moments, Dean sighs and turns back to his omelettes. That must have, once again, not been the reaction that he was hoping for. Good. Castiel has enough trouble dealing with the fact that there are strangers in his house, let alone having to deal with _flirting_ too.

But what if Dean _wasn’t_ trying to flirt with him? The small, panicked voice in the back of his mind speaks up by kindling a fire beneath his anxiety. His back was to Dean while he was checking the fridge. What if he was looking at Castiel’s back? What if he was trying to see his wings through his housecoat? What if part of his powers is the ability to _see through objects?_

The ‘_what if_’s keep pouring in and they’re taking up every available space in his mind. Castiel’s walk to the dining room to set out his toast toppings is stilted. Hopefully Dean doesn’t notice – or if he does, at least he doesn't mention it.

He sets out the spreads and steps over to the large window that looks out onto the deck and the backyard. The window goes from floor to ceiling and, despite the morning fog, it lets in more than enough natural light for the dining room. Castiel leans his forehead against the cool glass and practices his breathing exercises – counting each deep breath until the rapid beat of his heart has calmed down to something manageable again.

The worries are still dancing along the edge of his mind, but he distracts himself from them by thinking about what he’ll do after breakfast. He’ll take his bath and maybe just retire to his bedroom to read afterwards. Or he can take his tablet in with him and watch Netflix. Clearly he’s not ready to spend more time around the Winchesters if just the _idea_ that Dean might have been looking at his back was enough to kick start the beginnings of a panic attack.

It’s easier when he’s talking with them. The conversations distract him from _thinking_ too much. That’s always been his problem. Castiel thinks and never acts. If it wasn’t for his parents, he probably would have debated with himself about applying for his current jobs but never actually applied. His mother was the one who sat him down and helped him compose his resume. And his father was the one who coached him for the phone interview.

Now that his parents are gone, it’s Anna and his Aunt who make him decide when he’s dithering on choices. Anna forces him to go grocery shopping and leave the protective bubble of his home, even when he doesn’t want to. He really appreciates that she makes him push his boundaries, because he doesn’t _want_ to be scared of everyone and everything.

Castiel doesn’t want to be like _this_ anymore.

Any further hateful self-reflection is interrupted by a freshly showered Sam helping Dean bring the plates of omelettes and the forgotten toast into the dining room. Castiel ducks back into the kitchen to put a few extra slices in the toaster. He has the feeling that they’ll each want at least two pieces.

They all get seated, taking the same positions at the table as they had yesterday. Sam is the first to speak while Dean slathers his toast in Nutella. “Do you have any big plans for the day, Cas?”

“Not really.” He shrugs and starts with cutting up his omelette. When it comes to eggs, he prefers eating them on toast and they need to be in a manageable size for that.

Dean has a full mouth of toast and egg when he points towards the stairs. “Would it be okay for me to check out the basement after?”

“As long as you don’t touch what you’re not supposed to.” Castiel shrugs again and only continues speaking _after _he swallows his bite, like a person with _manners_. “There is an extra bathroom downstairs that you can use, and the laundry machines, and the gym. The laundry room is technically also the storage room, but it’s only the boxes that are off limits.”

“Just like asking about your powers, huh?”

Again, Sam backhands him in the shoulder, this time without even looking up from his meal. “_Dean_.”

“Aw, c’mon, Sammy!” His bottom lip sticks out in a pout for a half second before he’s reaching out to snag the pepper to coat his eggs with it. “You can’t tell me that you’re not curious too.”

“I didn’t say that.” Sam shakes his head. He gives Castiel a reassuring smile before turning a glare on his brother. “But the least you could do is respect Cas’s desire to keep his powers to himself.”

Dean reaches for the ketchup next – something he must have brought from the kitchen himself, because Castiel didn’t put it out. “I _do_, but –”

“No.” Sam holds up one finger and Dean’s jaw snaps shut.

They stare at each other again for a short moment, and again Castiel can’t help but wonder if they share some kind of telepathic connection that he isn’t aware of. Unlike Dean, however, he’s not going to ask about it. People, even mutants, are entitled to their own secrets.

But instead of dropping it like he did yesterday, Dean turns back to Castiel sharply. “Do your powers have anything to do with your hunch?”

The ensuing wave of self-consciousness almost makes him choke on his mouthful. Castiel coughs into his napkin before he can swallow his mouthful. He straightens his shoulder, consciously trying to flatten his wings more underneath the binder. “I do _not_ have a hunch.”

Dean opens his mouth again but a strangled noise of pain leaves him instead of words. It likely has something to do with the sudden – and _loud _– thump from underneath the table. He leans forward, swearing profusely under his breath as he nearly puts his nose into the ketchup zig-zagged over his omelette. Sam seems unchanged as he continues to serenely pick his own breakfast apart to stack on toast – in the same way that Castiel does.

“You _suck_.” Dean hisses when he sits upright again, turning a glare on his brother.

Sam shrugs and gestures at Dean’s plate with his toast. “Stop bothering him. Just eat your breakfast before he calls the cops on us.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow at the conviction in his voice. Dean knows almost nothing about him. He should call the police just to challenge his assumptions. Of course he won’t, but it would be _so_ satisfying. Still, he sniffs and looks down at his half-eaten plate. “I just might.”

“You wouldn’t.” Dean shakes his head and points with his fork. “Because you _like_ us.”

“I think the reason he wouldn’t call the cops is so he doesn’t risk outing himself as unregistered.”

Dean groans and throws both hands in the air. “Let a man _dream_, Sammy. God!” He gives him another dirty look. “Is that too much to ask?”

That sets off another hushed conversation that sounds mostly like bickering. Castiel listens with only half an ear while he focuses on his breakfast. They’re trying to keep their voices down while they argue, but it’s still rather loud – at least to him. And he can’t remember the last time his house was this noisy. Even Anna and his aunt aren’t this loud or boisterous whenever they come over.

Castiel can’t decide if he hates it, or kind of likes it? The noise is annoying, but it’s refreshing. But only if he overlooks the part where, in a roundabout way, they’re kind of blackmailing him into letting them stay. On the bright side, at least the food is good – though he could do without all the speculations regarding his mutation.

* * *

After breakfast, Castiel is banned from helping clean up. Dean shoos him off to the bathroom after insisting that they’ll take care of any housework as thanks for letting them stay. Any argument was met with more shoo-ing and eventually ended with Castiel relaxing in a hot bath while the radio was playing in the kitchen. He could even hear Dean singing along, occasionally off-key but not that bad.

Once his bath was done, Castiel decided it best to hide out in his bedroom. The bed is a far cry more comfortable than his office chair, and he has a stack of new books on the side table that he’s been wanting to get through. Reading is reserved for weekends when he can devote whole hours to them without worrying about having to do anything more than a couple chores.

He spreads out on his bed with a pillow propped up under his chest and a book in hand. It’s not as hard to focus on reading as he thought it would be. There are still moments when the sound of other people moving around the house, or the occasional laugh from either of the brothers, distracts him for a moment. But then he shakes himself out and forces himself to keep reading.

By the time lunch comes around, he’s gotten surprisingly good at ignoring the extra noise. Right up until there’s a knock at his door that pulls him out of the fantasy realm he was deeply immersed in.

“Cas?” Dean knocks again. “I brought you lunch.”

According to the clock, it’s nearly half past twelve o’clock. Castiel hadn’t realized so much time had passed. Maybe he _can_ read his way through the day without having to deal with either Winchester outside of meal times.

“One moment.” He marks his place in the book before he heaves himself out of bed. With his wings folded flat under the housecoat again, Castiel opens the door to find Dean holding a plate with a handful of plain chips filling one side, and a – “Is that a Sloppy Joe?”

“Man-wich, time!” Dean grins and holds it out. “A filling lunch as an apology for breakfast.” He ducks his head slightly, adopting an apologetic smile. “I know you’re still – uh – _adjusting_ to us and I shouldn’t have pressed about your powers. Sorry.”

Castiel accepts the plate with a nod. “You _are_ an acquired taste, I’ll give you that.”

There’s a brief moment of silence where Dean blinks at him. Then he snorts and then dissolves into a throaty laugh that makes Castiel’s feathers shiver under his housecoat. It takes him a moment to calm down and he waves his hands. “Sorry, sorry, but did you just try and make a joke?”

Actually, no he wasn’t, but Dean’s laugh is surprisingly nice when it’s not interrupting a quiet moment in a cemetery. Castiel raises his eyebrow and just _barely_ manages to keep himself from smiling too. “Well, I _do_ have a sense of humour.”

“Could’a fooled me.” Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “I was beginning to worry that you were all good looks and no _pizzaz_ –” At this he does _jazz hands_ and winks. “– to back it all up.”

There’s the confirmation Castiel didn’t even need to know that Dean finds him attractive. He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he fixes Dean with a flat look until the moment is well and truly passed.

Dean sighs and shakes his head. “Never mind.” He takes a backwards step towards the living room and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “If you’re interested, Sammy and I just queued up _Friends_ on Netflix. You’re welcome to come watch with us, and you won’t even have to share the couch. I can definitely get Sam to give up that _awesome_ recliner. Seriously, he might cry when we leave just because of that chair.”

Castiel looks down at his food and then takes a half step turn back to look at his bed. His book lies abandoned next to the pillow. Though he could most likely spend the whole day in here, he would rather not. What could it hurt to just watch one episode while he eats? He would be less likely to make a mess of his bedspread by not eating in here.

“Okay.” He shrugs and gestures for Dean to lead the way. “I suppose I can do one episode.”

Although that’s what he says, Castiel ends up watching almost four and a half episodes. He’s always been a sucker for _Friends_. It was one of his parents’ favourite TV shows and they loved when channels would marathon episodes of it. Castiel has seen every episode, but the nostalgia of watching them over and over again is just too much to resist – especially as Dean and Sam have a running commentary that is, in all honesty, pretty funny.

Surprisingly, Castiel is actually enjoying himself – right up until someone knocks at the front door a moment before opening it. There are only two other people who have a key to that door and, sure enough, Anna calls out a moment later. “Cas? Why is there a car outside?”

Castiel is on his feet and at the top of the stairs in a heartbeat. “Anna!”

Didn’t he tell her _not_ to come over this weekend? Why didn’t she text him that she was on her way over? She _always _texts him, and – Oh, right. He left his phone in the bedroom and he usually keeps the ringer volume on quiet when he’s not working. If it’s on quiet, he can’t hear it while he’s transcribing.

Anna stands at the bottom of the stairs with her hands on her hips. “You don’t _look_ very sick.”

“I –” He has no idea how he’s going to explain this to her without having her come into the house and actually meet the Winchesters.

Dean saves (if he should even call it that) him from having to figure that out. “Well, _hello_.” He drops a hand on Castiel’s shoulder as he steps up next to him. “Cas, you didn’t tell us an angel would be visiting. I would’ve cleaned up more if I’d known.”

“No, absolutely _not_.” Castiel barely likes it when Dean flirts with him, but he will _not_ tolerate him flirting with Anna. He shoves Dean back a step and points around the corner. “Go back to the living room.”

“What. The. _Hell_.” In between words, Anna’s voice moves from the bottom of the stairs to the top. Dean gives a fairly girlish shriek of surprise and he jumps back into Sam as Anna suddenly appears in front of him. She looks between Dean and Sam a few times before turning on Castiel and gesturing wildly at the others. “Since when do you have _friends_?!”

He’s sure that she doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but Castiel still flinches slightly at the words. Anna either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because she jabs him in the chest with an unfairly pointed finger. “And you were _hiding_ them! Why were you hiding them from –”

She stops suddenly and goes unnaturally still. Slowly, Anna turns and looks at Dean and Sam again, looking them up and down before making a soft ‘_oh_’ noise. Without another word, she blinks away and Castiel doesn’t have a clue where she went. He does hear a distant and muffled ‘_oh my God!_’ from outside, but she’s back in the house before he can check on it – only this time she blinks into the living room behind the Winchesters.

“You were the two at the graveyard the other day!” She points at them before gesturing out the window. “That’s _your_ car out there!”

“Aw, Cas.” Dean looks back at him with a slanted smile. “You talked about us?”

“No, he _didn’t_.” Anna crosses her arms and turns a chilling glare on Castiel. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me. I can’t _believe_ you would keep _secrets_ from _me_!”

This is too much. Castiel is still coming to terms with having the Winchesters here and now he has to deal with Anna throwing a tantrum. If he didn’t absolutely believe that she should _not_ be left alone with strangers in his own home, no matter how comfortable he’s slowly becoming with them, he would have already retreated to his bedroom. This whole situation is quickly becoming a headache that he doesn’t want to deal with.

Instead, Castiel just pinches his nose and sighs. “Anna, I told you I would text you when you could come over next.”

“And you also said that you weren’t feeling good.” She huffs and narrows her eyes at him. “But you turn into a giant man-baby when you’re sick and whine at me all the time. When I didn’t get a single message from you about your throat or your sinuses or your headaches, I figured _something_ might be wrong. I blink all the way out here just to find out that you’ve gone and made _friends_.”

She throws her hands in the air and points accusingly at him. “How many _other_ friends do you have that you haven’t told me about, huh? Does Mom know? If Mom knows and I don’t, I’m going to be _pissed_.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and ignores the sting from her words. “No, Anna, I don’t have any other friends.”

“Seriously?” Dean turns to him again and this time there’s _pity_ in his eyes.

He hates that look immediately and looks away from all of them. “Do people I’ve never met in person count as friends?”

“Uh –?”

Sam clears his throat and nudges Dean in the shoulder. “I think he’s talking about people on the _internet_.”

“Oh!” Dean shrugs and makes a vague gesture with one hand. “I guess they count? There are lots of people out there who make really great friends online without having met them first.”

“Does it still count if I have no plans on ever meeting them in person?” Castiel crosses his arms to avoid hugging himself in front of all of them. “They’re friends in that we simply occupy the same message boards or servers on occasion.” There are at least a handful of different groups that he’ll play with if everyone is online at the same time, most of which also frequent message boards about the games themselves where they argue or share tips and tricks.

Dean frowns again. “Wow, that’s kinda –”

“If you _dare_ pity me again, I swear I will kick you out this _instant_.” He drops his voice into a dangerous hiss. It doesn’t matter if anyone else can hear him or not, but Dean keeps looking at him with _sad eyes_ and Castiel can’t stand it. If it wasn’t for Anna, he would have already run from that look.

Thankfully, Dean mimes zipping his lips closed instead of saying anything further. The exchange must be interesting, because Anna looks more intrigued than angry now. She glances between the three of them a few times before striding forward. Castiel doesn’t have it in him to argue or resist as she grabs him by the arm and drags him into the kitchen.

Once alone, she cups a hand around her mouth and leans in to whisper into his ear. “Do they _know_?”

Bless her for her attempted secrecy, as unnecessary as it might be. “Yes, they’re aware that I’m a mutant.” Castiel does nothing to maintain the whisper, speaking at normal volume. “So are they.”

Dean leans around the doorway with the collar of his shirt pulled down, revealing the mangled remains of his tattoo. “Registered and everything!”

Sam leans too and waves. “And I’m unregistered.”

Anna sucks in a sharp breath just as Dean glances back to glare at Sam. She covers her mouth with her hands briefly be gesturing sharply at him. “Why would you _tell _someone that you’re unregistered?”

“I trust Cas not to turn me in.” He shrugs and steps around Dean to enter the kitchen too. “And I know that you’re trustworthy too.”

She continues to gape at him, even looking at Castiel momentarily before turning back. “You’re trusting _strangers_? Why in the world would you trust me? You don’t even _know_ me!”

Castiel clears his throat and puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “We’re not going to turn him in because they could just as easily turn _me_ in as an unregistered too.”

Her jaw snaps shut with an audible click before she takes a threatening step forward, pointing at the both of them in kind. “Don’t you _dare_.”

Sam holds his hands up and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do something like that, and Dean’s a dick sometimes, but he’s not _that_ much of a dick.”

“Hey!” Dean steps into the kitchen too, but only to punch Sam on the shoulder.

Anna seems like she’s gearing up to say something else, but Castiel squeezes her shoulder. “It’s okay.” He offers her a small smile when she looks at him again. “This whole situation isn’t – it’s not _that_ bad. Dean is a very good cook, at the least.”

She regards him for a moment before crossing her arms and shrugging his hand off. “I still can’t believe that you didn’t tell me _immediately_ the moment you had – what, intruders?”

“We prefer to call ourselves _visitors_, thank you very much.” Dean sniffs and mirrors her body language. He holds his head high and puffs up slightly. “We’re paying for our stay with out-of-this-world companionship and delicious as hell food.” All his posturing is gone as quick as it came and he looks Anna over again. “You hungry? I can heat up some of our lunch for you.”

Food has always been a helpful factor when winning Anna over. Castiel nods in approval of the suggestion. “He _does_ make a very good Sloppy Joe.”

“I can’t believe you’re okay with this.” She huffs and steps out of the way for Dean to get to the fridge so he can get the leftovers.

Castiel shrugs and looks away. “I didn’t say that.”

Sam doesn’t seem surprised, but Dean turns sharply with the container of cheese and Sloppy Joe meat in his hands. “You’re _not_ okay with us? Why didn’t you say so!”

That’s not exactly what he meant and Castiel rubs a hand over his face. “It’s complicated, Dean. And I would appreciate if everyone would _please_ just drop the matter.” He looks at Anna pointedly when she opens her mouth again. “I’m going to lock myself in my bedroom again if you keep arguing it. They’re here and I’m as okay with it as I can be. End of story. So, can we just ­– can we _not_?”

“But –”

He holds his hand up to cut her off. “I promise you that everything is fine and I am _not_ in trouble. Just, for the love of all that is holy, _please_ don’t tell Aunt Amara about this. She’ll be more upset than you.”

“For good reason!”

“You old enough to drink?” Dean interrupts what could be a continued argument. “We’ve got beer, if you want it.”

Anna wrinkles her nose and looks up at the clock. “It’s, like, two-thirty in the afternoon.”

“Really?” Dean looks up at it too. “Wow, could’a sworn that it was later.” He shrugs and turns back to her, though he tilts his head at the counter where he’s standing. “C’mon, angel. Come tell me how sloppy you want your Joe and I’ll make you the best damn sandwich you’ve ever tasted.”

She rolls her eyes and points at Castiel again, squinting at him. “This isn’t over.”

“Lord, don’t I know that.” He sighs and watches as she stomps over to where Dean is waiting with a bowl to scoop out the amount she wants and warm it separately from the bun.

Sam touches Castiel’s shoulder briefly, expression apologetic. “I’m sorry. I don’t think either of us realized how – uh – _not_ used to people you are.”

“She calls me a hermit.” Castiel gestures at Anna. “I leave the house for the cemetery and occasionally for grocery shopping. Otherwise – Well, my aunt comes and cuts my hair for me every now and then.” He runs a hand through his hair before shoving them both into the pockets of his housecoat. “But it’s fine. _I’m_ fine.”

Although he says that, all Castiel really wants to do right now is to go back to his bedroom. But even though he vaguely trusts that Dean and Sam won’t do anything to her, he still refuses to leave Anna alone with them. Instead, he turns on his heel and brushes past Sam on his way back to the living room. Instead of taking the recliner like he did before, Castiel flops face first down on the couch. He has no idea how he’s going to deal with the rest of this and he already feels exhausted.

Of course now that he’s no longer in the room, Dean has struck up a conversation with Anna. Castiel can hear them from here and he grimaces into the pillow at the direction he’s going. Rather than try and learn about her, Dean seems to be more interested in trying to find a roundabout way to ask Anna what Castiel’s mutation is. Thankfully, Sam is there to call him out on that right away and Dean immediately switches to asking about Anna’s teleportation powers.

Today just got – it got a whole lot _more_ and Castiel is not equipped for dealing with it. All he can hope for is that Anna either doesn’t stay around for very long, or she stops making such a big deal about the situation. Either way, he has the feeling that it now no longer matters how long Dean and Sam are staying. It could be one more day or it could be another week. Whatever it is, Anna is likely going to be coming over on the _daily_.

As much as he loves her, just thinking about that is _exhausting_.

* * *

** _Saturday – November 11th, 2017_ **

“Hey, Cas?” Dean calls from the living room just as Castiel is coming down the hall from his bedroom, laundry basket in hand. “Cas! What are these boxes under the TV?”

He puts his basket down at the top of the stairs and rounds the corner into the living room. Dean is crouched in front of the entertainment unit beneath the wall-mounted TV. It’s a long unit with four shelves hidden behind sliding doors. Each shelf is above a cubby and all four of the cubbies have two storage boxes fitted into them. The DVD player and cable box are sitting on top of the unit, along with a number of family pictures in frames.

Rather than answer with his words, Castiel crosses the room to crouch next to him. He pulls out one of the boxes and lifts the lid to show that the box is _full_ with video game cases. This particular box contains the games for his Xbox One. They’re actually for older models, but Castiel has the backwards compatibility model that supports older games.

Dean audibly gasps. “You have _video games_?”

“I’m honestly surprised that you didn’t investigate these on your own earlier.” Castiel replaces the lid and puts the box back where it belongs.

“You told me not to snoop and I’ve been respecting that!” Despite that, Dean still grabs for another box and opens it to find it full of games for the Nintendo Wii. He gapes at it before looking up at Cas. “Does this mean that I _can_ snoop and you won’t get mad?”

Honestly, Castiel is impressed. The Winchesters have been here for a week now and they _haven’t_ been looking into his personal things? “I’m surprised. I thought for sure that you would have been nosy and poked around in literally everything by now.”

“Well, _now _I will.”

Castiel watches as Dean systematically pulls out each and every box to see what games are in them. He finds the PlayStation games (for three separate different models), but makes an odd squealing noise in the back of his throat when he finds the ones for the old NES system. The noise happens again, though it’s more choke than squeal when Castiel reaches out to lift and slide back all four of the covers for the shelves on the unit.

One has the Wii and the PlayStation 2 stacked on top of each other, and the next has the PlayStation 3. The third shelf has the PlayStation 4, and the final has the Xbox one. The NES is actually in a separate box on the shelf with its games. Castiel hasn’t played those since his dad died, so he replaced it with the PS4 when it came out. The NES was his dad’s favourite system and it’s hard to play without getting emotional. Buying games and consoles are some of the only times that he’ll drop big money.

“What the _hell_.” Dean stares at all the systems for a long moment before turning to Castiel. “I didn’t know that you were a _gamer_.”

He shrugs again and stands up. “My parents thought video games were a good way to pass the time since I couldn’t really go out and make friends. When online gaming became a thing, I did get to talk to more people.” From one of the boxes with less games, he pulls out a headset with microphone. “I like the multiplayer games where I can work as a team.”

“Holy _shit_, Cas.” Dean stands up too and bounces on the balls of his feet a few times. “You have _gotta_ play me at some of these.”

After a week, Castiel has started almost enjoying his time with the Winchesters. The amount of time he hides in his bedroom or office has decreased slowly but surely every day. Now, instead of dreading the idea of spending time playing video games with Dean, he actually _likes_ it.

“Why don’t you get Mario Kart set up while I go get my laundry started?” Castiel pulls the game from one of the Wii boxes and holds it out. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh I am _so_ going to kick your ass at this.” Dean grins widely and crouches to turn the Wii on.

Sam snorts from the dining table, where he’s been quietly working on his laptop since lunchtime. “I’m not going to hold your hand when you get your butt kicked.”

It seems that Sam understands the situation better than Dean does. Castiel shares a knowing grin with him before returning to his waiting laundry basket. He just admitted that he’s played a massive amount of video games in his life, yet somehow Dean still expects to beat him – at one of his favourite games, no less. It’s _highly_ doubtful that he’s played as much Mario Kart as Castiel has. There will be no quarter given. He will be merciless and ruthless, and he’s going to enjoy every second of it.

While in the basement, Castiel pulls his phone from the pocket of his housecoat. He’s getting sick of wearing the damn thing, but the thought of revealing his wings fills him with so much anxiety that he can hardly _function_ when he considers doing it.

Once the water starts running, and before he adds his detergent, Castiel sends a quick text message to Anna. She wants to go grocery shopping later, since he didn’t have to do it last week, and she already made Dean promise to not only drive them but also pay for it. The only stipulation is that Castiel has to go with them, or be subject to _two_ disappointed faces – or three, if Sam joins in.

** _When do you want to go shopping?_ **

** _I’ve got an ass to beat first._ ** _  
Read: 12:44pm_

_What the hell is that supposed to mean??_

** _Dean challenged me to Mario Kart. >:)  
_ ** _Read: 12:47pm_

_…_

_I promise I’ll say something nice at his funeral._

Castiel bites back his laugh as he reaches for the detergent. Dean has no idea what’s in store for him. It’s almost sad, really. _Almost_.

* * *

** _Tuesday – November 14th, 2017_ **

At this point, Castiel isn’t even surprised anymore when he wakes up to the smell of food. Dean is always up before him and he always makes something _delicious_. There hasn’t been a single meal yet that Castiel hasn’t liked – except for the few times when the Winchesters take a jaunt into town and returned with Chinese food or pizza. Arguably, the food _was_ good, but it just wasn’t _as_ good as everything that Dean has cooked.

In fact, in the time that he’s had his own personal chef, Castiel is sure that he’s actually put on some weight. He’s getting spoiled by all these good meals and he already knows he’s going to miss eating this well when the Winchesters finally leave.

Surprisingly, he tries not to think about that anymore.

“G’morning, sunshine!” Castiel is mid-yawn when he shuffles into the kitchen. Dean meets him with coffee in hand. “Here you go. Made just the way you like it!”

Castiel squints at first the coffee, then at Dean. “Why are you such a morning person? I hate it.” He grumbles before bringing it to his lips and _oh that’s good_.

“He’s actually a huge grump in the morning.” Sam is leaning against the counter with his own coffee. He must have gotten up not long before Castiel, because his hair is a true mess and he still looks rather rumpled from sleep. “Worse than you, even. But he still drags his ass out of bed at least an hour before your alarm just so he can down a whole pot of coffee and be awake enough to make breakfast for you.”

As soon as he handed off the coffee, Dean had moved back to the stove to focus on flipping the French toast in the pan. The back of his neck turns steadily red the more Sam talks, and Castiel watches the interesting change over the edge of his mug.

“Dunno what you’re talking ‘bout, Sammy.” It sounds like he’s speaking through gritted teeth.

Sam gives Castiel a tired grin and gestures towards Dean with his mug. “Now he’s embarrassed.”

“You want egg in your hair?” Dean turns and brandishes his spatula like a sword. “Coz’ this is how you get egg in your hair.”

Castiel hums and takes another sip of sweet godly caffeine. “I’ve read that cracking an egg into your hair is supposed to be good for it.”

Dean turns a disapproving frown on him. “Go sit down and drink your coffee, Cas.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and Castiel shuffles off into the dining room. The table is already set up and it looks like he doesn’t have to do _anything_ this morning besides drink his coffee and eat. That’s an excellent start to an otherwise dreary day. It’s foggy outside again, and the weather is steadily getting cooler with it holding out in the mid-fifties today. He can’t wait until Friday when the weather report is predicting a low seventies. Winter is the _worst _and he can’t wait for it to be over with - and it isn't even really here yet!

Instead of sitting with his back to the kitchen like he usually has been, Castiel takes one of the two places on the other side of the table just so he can see into the kitchen. The angle only gives him a good view of Sam, but he can hear the hiss of sausages as Dean fries them in another pan. Everything looked almost ready and Castiel’s stomach gives a tired rumble of anticipation.

Sam brings the coffee pot too when he helps bring the serving plates into the dining room. He carries the sausages while Dean carries the French toast. They both pause in the doorway, probably because Castiel isn’t where he normally sits. For a moment he briefly considers getting up and moving, but then Dean rounds the table and drops into the seat next to him before he can really do anything. Now it would just be _rude_ of him to get up and Castiel resigns himself to sitting next to Dean for the meal.

It’s weird that he doesn’t actually mind it that much. And it’s weird how he’s gotten used to all of this. It should be a _bad_ thing, but Castiel is almost completely accustomed to waking up to these two and a delicious breakfast.

That scares him a little bit and the next gulp of his coffee goes down a little rougher.

Thankfully, Sam is ready to distract him from his thoughts without even needing to be asked. It might be a coincidence, or it might be his empathy at work, but Castiel is grateful for it whatever it may be. “Are you going to tackle that new manuscript today, Cas?”

“I am.” Castiel serves himself a couple pieces of French toast and a number of sausages, then covers everything liberally with syrup. “It’s technically a short story, so I should be able to finish it today. Then I’m going to turn it in and _firmly_ tell them that this is the last trashy romance I’m going to edit.”

Sam uses far less syrup that either Castiel or Dean, and he scoops some berries onto his French toast. “Would you rather be editing a scientific journal article or something similar?”

“Not quite.” He shakes his head and drags the berries close enough to put some along the side of his plate. “I’m fine with anything as long as it isn’t poorly written smut.”

Dean’s cheek is already bulging with the first bite of sausage. “What about _well_-_written_ smut?”

Castiel shrugs and pops a slice of strawberry into his mouth. “If I ever get some, I’ll let you know.”

To his great delight, that gets a laugh from _both_ brothers. He hides his own smile with his coffee mug, draining it so he can pour himself a second one before continuing with his meal.

Anna and his aunt never really ask about his work. What he edits might change, but it’s not like he can talk about the content or the plot. That goes against the privacy agreement he signed when he was hired. And he absolutely can_not_ talk about anything that happens in the recordings that he transcribes for doctors. Those are highly private and _very_ confidential.

While his family never asks about his work, Sam has taken to asking about his editing job a lot. Mostly he asks about what it’s like and how many different genres he’s edited before. Castiel doesn’t want to assume anything, but he thinks Sam might be a little jealous about it. There’s nothing very glamorous about the job, but he does like getting to read all sorts of new books before they hit the market. Unfortunately, being behind the curtains means that Castiel is all too aware of how _atrocious_ some authors are at both spelling and grammar.

Sometimes he likes to think that his job is similar to being given a raw gemstone and it’s his job to chip away all the impurities and polish it until it shines. It takes a lot of time and effort, but Castiel really does like his job. Most of the time, at least.

“I know we’re not allowed to go in your office, but I did see through the doorway the other day that you have a lot of books in there.” Sam pokes his food around his plate a bit, more focused on talking than eating. “What kind of books are they?”

“Some of them are for the transcribing that I do, but my own sizable personal collection is in there too.” Castiel shrugs, not looking up from cutting everything on his plate into manageable pieces. “I also usually get a free copy of the books that I’ve edited.”

As soon as he says that, Sam sits forward and looks _much_ more awake than he did moments before. Even Dean perks up a little bit, though he’s more subtle about it. Castiel looks between the two of them before raising an eyebrow. “If you’d like, you can come and browse my collection before I start work today. Anything you’re interested in, you’re welcome to take.”

Sam’s smile is downright radiant. “That would be _awesome_. Thanks!”

Dean has an interested gleam in his eye, but he snorts and rolls his eyes instead. “Who has time for _books_. You’re both a bunch of nerds.”

Even though that’s what he says, Dean still lingers at the door to Castiel’s office after he finishes cleaning up their breakfast. By then Castiel has already finished getting ready for the day and he and Sam are looking at his personal library – which spans most of the two floor to ceiling bookcases he has.

“You’re welcome to come in and look for anything you might like yourself, Dean.” Castiel gestures for him to come in too.

Instead, Dean rolls his eyes and turns away. He yanks open the linen closet to pull out a few towels and goes into the bathroom. “I’m going to shower. Hope it doesn’t disrupt you _nerds_.”

Sam waits until the shower is running before he reaches out and pulls _Cat’s Cradle_ off the shelf. “He tries to maintain a tough-guy image, but this is the kind of stuff that Dean likes to read.” He passes it off to Castiel as he continues pulling out other books so he can check the back of their covers. “He won’t admit it, but he’s as big a reader as I am. He’s even read _The Odyssey_.”

Interesting. Castiel files that little bit of information away and searches through his collection for something else that Dean might like. He pulls out another Vonnegut book; _The Sirens of Titan_. Unsure if it’s just genre or author that he likes, Castiel also grabs _2001: A Space Odyssey_ too, just in case.

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam hefts the five books he chose from himself and heads back out into the hallway. “I’ve been meaning to read these, but it’s hard when we can’t exactly borrow from a library. I really should just get myself a Kindle or something.”

“If I didn’t love the feel of a cover in my hands, I would have already digitized my collection onto one.” He follows Sam out too. “I hope you enjoy them. They’re all excellent choices.”

Sam flashes him a bright smile before heading into his bedroom to change. Castiel takes the three he has and heads to the living room. Dean’s bed, so to speak, is always made in the morning. The sheets are meticulously tucked around the cushions on the couch, and the blanket is folded carefully on the spare chair by the window. It’s not a recliner like the La-Z-Boy that has it’s back to the kitchen, but it’s still a comfortable seat with a matching ottoman.

The two pillows that Dean sleeps with are stacked on top of the blanket. Castiel looks around for the best place to leave the books before he decides to just leave them on the center cushion of the couch. If Dean misses them, then he’s _extremely_ unobservant. And that sounds like it wouldn’t be a good thing for someone in his line of work.

With that taken care of, Castiel stops in the kitchen to fill up his water bottle before returning to his office. It’s time for him to get to work.

* * *

Now that he’s not trying to hide from the Winchesters as much as he did before, Castiel is comfortable with taking a short bathroom break and to stretch his legs every few hours. He can also refill his water bottle more often, which only contributes to his need for more bathroom breaks – not that he minds.

On his first break, he’s surprised to find the house quiet. Sam isn’t in his bedroom at first glance, but he _is_ in the recliner. He has it as flat as it will go and is laying on his side while reading – not even looking up when Castiel comes up the hall. Dean is stretched out on the couch with his feet propped up on the armrest. _2001: A Space Odyssey_ is in his hands and he’s already a fair number of pages into it.

He glances up from the book when he notices Castiel. Rather than be embarrassed about being caught out as a _nerd_, Dean just smiles and mouths _thank you_ as he wiggles the book a little before returning to reading. It puts something warm and bubbly behind his ribs and Castiel returns to his office (after a quick visit to the kitchen) with a little bounce in his step.

* * *

** _Friday – November 17th, 2017_ **

“Cas!”

The loud bang on his door has Castiel jump. He sighs and takes his foot off the pedal used to control the playback of his recordings. His housecoat is on the back of the door and he gets up to put that on. Dean has been told time and time again not to disturb him during work hours unless it’s an emergency.

If something isn’t on fire, Castiel is going to slam the door in his face.

He opens the door with a frown. “Yes?” Dean is standing there with a storage tub at his feet and his hands on his hips. It’s one of the bins used in the storage room downstairs and Castiel sighs when he sees it. “You’ve been snooping, I see.”

“You basically said it was okay! And that’s not the issue here anyway.” Dean crouches and pulls the lid off the bin, revealing large Ziploc baggies filled with various pieces from a number of different board games. The boards themselves are fit into the tub along the sides and underneath.

Dean picks up one of the baggies, holding the cash and pieces to _Monopoly_, and shakes it. “We’ve been here nearly two weeks and you’ve been hiding this treasure trove from us!”

Castiel sighs again and crosses his arms. He leans against the door frame and continues to frown down at Dean. “I’m fairly sure board games don’t constitute an emergency.” And then, because he’s apparently also a masochist, he continues. “And there are three other totes of games downstairs.”

“There’s –” His jaw drops and Dean stands up quickly again. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I forgot they were down there?” Castiel shrugs and looks down at the box again. “I only really play them once or twice a year with Anna and Aunt Amara. We played them almost weekly when my parents were alive. When they died, I just –” He shrugs again. “I just packed it all away.”

It’s not like he could have a _family game night_ without a family.

There’s a long moment of silence where Dean seems to wilt under the realization. Finally, he drops the Monopoly bag back into the box. “Sorry, Cas. I didn’t mean to pick at old wounds.”

“It’s fine.” Castiel waves his hand. “It’s about time I started clearing out some of that old stuff anyway.” Everything that had belonged to his parents had been packed away. There’s a lot down there that Castiel didn’t need to keep, but he just wasn’t able to part with any of it when the grief of their deaths was still strong.

“No, don’t do that!” Dean picks up the bin and holds it tight to his chest, as if he’s afraid Castiel will get rid of it that instant. “Let’s play them!” He starts towards the living room at a brisk pace, calling over his shoulder as he goes. “Tonight we’re going to have a _game night_! I’m going to go through and make a list of every game you’ve got. We’re going to pick one at random and have us a proper family board night after dinner.”

Dean stops at the top of the stairs and turns back. “You should text Anna and ask her if she wants to come over! Tell her to bring her mom too, if she’s free. I bet she’s just as cute as the rest of her family. It’s about time we meet her!” He winks and disappears down the stairs before Castiel can even think of answering him.

After a few moments of silence, Castiel steps back into his office and shuts the door. He rests his forehead against it and takes another couple seconds to process what was asked of him. It brings up a lot of questions, but only one stands out from the others.

_Why in the world is he smiling_?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Monday – November 20th, 2017_ **

Castiel is watching the movie, but he’s not really _watching_ the movie. He’s seen _Jurassic Park_ more times than he cares to count and of course he wasn’t going to turn down the idea of watching it when Dean made the suggestion to marathon the first trilogy. But repetition isn’t the reason why he’s zoned out and not absorbing the thrilling scene of the Velociraptors in the kitchen.

What has him distracted is the fact that watching movies after dinner has become a _thing_. It’s been two weeks – _two weeks_ – since Dean and Sam started staying here. They haven’t been in the house all day every day, of course. One or both of them leaves almost every other day to go off and do God knows what. They always come back with something, though. Whether it be bags from Walmart, or from one of the different grocery stores in town.

Dean has made almost every meal since and Castiel can’t remember the last time he’s had so much good food. True to their word, the Winchesters have also been buying all the food. They’ve even been doing all the chores, leaving Castiel to relax after work and on the weekend. He’s had time to work on his video game library, his pile of books to read, and shop online for Christmas gifts.

And it’s _because_ he had the chance to do some shopping before dinner that he has Christmas on his mind. December is just around the corner and the Winchesters have given no indication of when they’re going to leave. If they end up never leaving and they stay right through the holidays, is he expected to get them gifts? Will they be getting _him_ gifts? The possibility of having them here for something like _Christmas_ – which traditionally is when Anna and his aunt come over and spend several days with him – makes him queasy.

And Castiel absolutely can’t just _not_ ask. He pushes himself up in the recliner, lowering the foot-rest back into place. When he sits here, he lies on his side with the recliner angled away from the TV. It puts the whole chair between him and the couch, but it’s the most comfortable way to relax without laying on his wings.

He clears his throat and two sets of eyes turn from the movie to him. After two weeks in their company, it doesn’t bother him as much as it did before. “Do you have any idea of how long you’ll be staying?” Because they _did_ say that they wouldn’t be staying long, but now it’s been _two weeks_. “I want to stress that I am _not_ kicking you out. I’m just curious.”

Curious about when everything will stop being so _loud_. Curious about when the living room is going to stop feeling so _lived in_. Curious about when his home is going to stop feeling so _warm_. That doesn’t have anything to do with how Sam seems to heat the air around him, and it has everything to do with how it’s – it’s _nice_. Surprisingly enough. It’s nice and less empty.

Dean’s eyebrows come together in a worried frown. “If we’re overstaying our welcome, Cas, you can definitely kick us out. We won’t fault you for it.”

“No, no. That’s not what I mean.” He shakes his head and waves a hand. “It’s fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” Dean doesn’t look convinced. “Because –”

Sam leans over to nudge him with his shoulder. “He’s telling the truth, so don’t push him too much or he might change his mind.”

Dean huffs and pauses the movie instead of dropping it like Sam suggested. “I know we’ve been here longer than you thought we would be.” He runs his hand through his hair, ruffling it and giving it a bit of a fluffy look. “This is just a really nice place and we like hanging out with you.”

That’s oddly sweet, and they’re lucky that Castiel has gotten used to them. Sam even smiles and nods in agreement. “We usually stay in Lawrence for most of November to get a year’s worth of visits with Mom’s grave.”

“At first I thought you were just doing a lot of shopping.” Castiel quirks the corner of his mouth up in the closest approximation of a smile that he finds himself willing to give. “You always come back with food, which makes sense given that we eat enough to feed a small army.”

“Well, yeah.” Dean snorts and he grins. “There’s that too. But no, we’re visiting Mom because it’s hard to find the time to make it out here in between our hunts.”

Sam bobs his head in a nod. “Well, hunting _and_ looking for Dad.”

He’s barely finished speaking before Dean elbows him hard enough that he grunts. Castiel frowns at the two of them, because this isn’t the first time that Dean has stopped Sam from mentioning anything about their dad. Aside from their conversation in the graveyard, they haven’t really said much else about him. The only thing Castiel knows about him is that he’s been missing for several years now and that he’s a bounty hunter like them.

Now his curiosity reaches its limit and Castiel pins Dean with a frown. “Why do you keep doing that? Every time Sam mentions your dad, you get –” He gestures at the way Dean is glaring at Sam.

“Because it’s a sensitive topic.” Dean sniffs and picks up the remote. He hits the play button and the screaming of the kids starts again.

It doesn’t play for long, because Sam plucks the remote from his hand and pauses the movie again. “No, it’s really _not_.”

Dean’s glare increases tenfold and his shoulders draw up. “Maybe it’s a topic I don’t wanna talk about, huh? How’s _that_?”

Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Not talking about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and looks to Castiel. “The short version of the story is that we haven’t seen our dad since late 2007. He used to come back from every hunt, and then he started coming back less and less until he eventually just didn’t come back at all.”

Oh. Now he sees why this is probably not Dean’s favourite topic of conversation. Castiel has never had someone just leave him like that. His parents died suddenly but it’s not like they _chose_ to die. Their dad chose to leave them and that – that’s so _sad_.

“Is he okay?” Maybe something happened to him and he’s afraid to face them now? There must be a good reason for why he just stopped coming home.

Dean crosses his arms and slumps further down in his spot. He doesn’t answer, but he does turn his glare on the TV. The intensity of it is briefly worrying. If one of his powers ends up being laser vision, then it will be goodbye to Castiel’s television.

Sam shrugs and briefly spares Dean a glance before turning his attention back to him. “We think so? I mean, we’ve been using the network to track what hunts he’s been taking and where he’s turning them in. If we’re not wrapped up in our own hunt, we try and go intercept him.”

At that point, Dean doesn’t seem to be able to contain himself anymore. He’s practically vibrating in place and _radiating_ anger. “But by the time we fucking get there, he’s long gone! No trace of him and no one knows where the hell he goes in between hunts.” He kicks his feet up on the coffee table, bringing them down with heavy thumps as he glare grows darker. “Just _poof_.”

The wording piques his interest and Castiel tilts his head. “Is he a mutant too?” If he just _disappears_ after a hunt, then he might have teleportation powers like Anna does.

“Hah! No, he isn’t.” Dean barks a sharp laugh that borders on painful. “He’s a _normie_.”

With a sigh, Sam sits back and frowns at him. “You know I hate it when you call non-mutants that.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean pulls his feet off the coffee table only to push it further from the couch. He stands up and storms off down the hall without another word. The door to the bathroom slams shut behind him, loud enough for Castiel to wince at the bang.

Sam shares a look with him and shrugs. It’s not more of a twitch of his shoulder as he slumps back in his seat too. “Sorry. He took Dad’s distance a lot harder than I did, and then he stopped answering our calls and didn’t return our messages and, well –” He flops his hand out in the general direction of the hall.

Castiel winces again, this time to mentally kick himself for pushing the topic. Now he’s gone and upset Dean, and Sam doesn’t look too happy either. “Should I go apologize?”

“No, don’t bother.” He shakes his head and picks up the remote again. “This isn’t the first time he’s thrown a hissy fit about Dad and it won’t be the last. He’s just going to take a hot shower to burn the angry out and then make me sleep on the couch tonight.” And as if that happens every day, Sam shrugs and points the remote at the TV. “Do you want to continue the movie?”

Even though he nods and lays the recliner out again, Castiel doesn’t end up watching any more of the movie than he did before. Dean doesn’t come back to finish watching with them, and they don’t bother with starting the next one.

Sam was right though. He does end up sleeping on the couch that night.

* * *

** _Thursday – November 23rd, 2017_ **

There are only a handful of days in the year where Castiel’s house is a flurry of activity. While the presence of the Winchesters has certainly changed that, Thanksgiving is _still_ a busy day. Castiel always takes work off because he’s usually cooking and cleaning most of the day before Anna and his aunt come over for dinner.

This year, Castiel doesn’t actually have much to do. The house was already impeccably clean because the Winchesters basically _attacked _it with every cleaning supply Castiel owned. He came out of his office to the windows open to air everything out, and every surface having been sanitized. Even the basement bathroom was sparkling.

And that left Castiel with nothing to do but cook today – which has gone _amazingly_ well thanks to the Winchesters. They’ve both been helping him out, which has lowered almost every stress level Castiel has. Which is _hilarious_ given how much their mere presence shot his anxiety to hell when they first arrived. Now he’s actually grateful to have them around – almost _likes_ having them here.

With all the help, there were only two things that actually cause him any stress or anxiety over the course of the day. The first being that of course he's going to have to look like an idiot and wear his housecoat while cooking and during dinner. Castiel still can't even _think_ about revealing his wings to Dean and Sam. And then the second dizzying spell of anxiety was over the fact that his aunt hasn’t met his guests yet and Anna, at his request, didn’t tell her about them until yesterday.

That leads him to taking deep breaths at the first sound of knocking at the front door an hour before dinner time. Luckily he’s already crouched over in front of the oven, basting the turkey. It helps, but it also keeps him too occupied to greet them – leaving the task to Dean. As much as Castiel has come to enjoy his presence, he really could do without how Dean ends up bickering with Anna every time she comes over. She’s been in the door all of two minutes and already they’ve argued about tracking mud into the foyer and Anna blinking in too close and scaring Dean _every time_.

“Are you going to be wearing your housecoat all evening?” Aunt Amara steps into the kitchen carrying bags holding everything she brought for dinner.

Castiel stands up to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s this or my overcoat.” Neither Dean nor Sam are in the kitchen at the moment, but he still glances around to make sure they’re not within earshot before dropping his voice into a whisper. “_They_ don’t know.”

“I see.” She puts her bags on the counter and turns to him with her hands on her hips. “I didn't want to stress you out prepping for tonight, so I didn't call you yesterday, but I'm telling you now." Her eyes narrow dangerously. "I’m _pissed _that you didn’t tell me you had people staying with you _a__nd _that you had Anna keep it a secret from me.”

She hasn't been able to make it to any of the game nights that Dean has instigated, and Anna never explained _who_ was doing all the planning. As of yet, Aunt Amara hasn’t met the Winchesters officially. Castiel purposefully never told her because he was worried that she would be even more protective than Anna and would have insisted that he kick them out.

“I'll introduce you as soon as I’m done with this turkey.” Castiel crouches again to continue basting, the sleeves of his housecoat rolled up as far as they will go.

Aunt Amara huffs, but doesn’t argue further (thank God, because she can be _terrifying_) and starts unpacking her bags. “I got the buns and I made my green bean casserole. I also bought those pies you asked me to bring.” She opens the microwave over the stove and puts the casserole dish in there to keep it warm-ish until they have oven space to heat it properly before eating. “But did we really need _three_ different kinds? There’s only five of us – unless you’ve invited _more_ people you haven’t told me about.”

“Pies?” Castiel glances up at the remaining bag on the counter. “I didn’t ask for any pies.”

“Nope, that was me!” Dean sweeps in almost out of nowhere – briefly making Castiel wonder if his power is also the ability to teleport. He grins and paws through the bag. “Heck yes! Apple, Cherry, _and_ Pecan. God’s gift to – Wait. What the heck is this? _Pumpkin_ pie?”

Castiel makes a mental note to chew Dean out later for apparently having stolen his phone or gotten his aunt's number by some other shady means, all for the sake of _pie. _He pushes the turkey back into the oven and closes the door. “Anna likes pumpkin pie.” He stands up and tosses the oven mitts onto the counter. “And I would like to introduce you to my Aunt Amara. Auntie, this is Dean.”

“Pff, _pumpkin_. The most basic of all pies.” Dean frowns at the one box he sets aside from the others before turning and holding his hand out. “Hi! Nice to finally meet you. Thanks for getting the pies. Even the pumpkin, I _guess_.”

Aunt Amara shakes his hand, but she doesn’t manage to get a word out before Anna clears her throat loudly from the doorway into the dining room. Her arms are crossed and there’s a challenging look in her eyes. “You had _better_ not be snubbing my pie.”

Dean throws her a cheeky grin. “Oh, I am _definitely_ snubbing your pie.”

Anna scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Oh, because you’re some kind of pie connoisseur, are you?”

“Damn right I am.” He puffs his chest out and lifts his head high. “Connoisseur for _all_ food, actually.”

Castiel sighs and glances at the timer on the stove. If he doesn’t intervene now, they’re going to get distracted with another argument and dinner will never happen at that rate. “Dean, if we want the potatoes to be done in time with the turkey, we had better start soon.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Dean clicks his heels together and salutes before heading off. “I’ll go see how Sam’s doing with the peeling.”

He and Anna disappear into the dining room and Aunt Amara hums quietly to herself. “He’s a cute one, isn’t he?”

“I suppose.” Castiel shrugs and turns to dealing with the pies. He stacks all the boxes together and gathers the empty plastic bags. “Do you want these back?”

Aunt Amara shakes her head and goes to get a wine glass from the cupboard. “He seems nice enough, I suppose. But if he ever does you wrong, you tell me.” She punches her right hand into her left palm and levels him with a serious glare. “I’ll fuck him up for you.”

“It’s fine, Auntie.” He shakes his head and gives her genuine smile. Castiel only ever really smiles for her and Anna. “Thank you, but they’ve both been very kind. I was uncomfortable at first, but I’ve gotten used to them now.”

“Good.” She nods, seemingly satisfied, and starts pouring herself some wine. “I haven’t met the other one yet, but Anna said she likes him better.”

There’s a gasp from the doorway and they both turn to find Dean standing there with his hand on his chest. Anna is next to him again, though this time she has a stack of napkins in one hand. Dean turns to her with that same shocked expression. “You like _Sam_ better?”

“He’s not such a jerk.” She shrugs and leans against the door frame. “Be less of a dick and I might end up liking you more.”

“Cas!” Dean turns back and points at Anna. “Tell her to stop hurting my feelings.”

Castiel sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “_Both_ of you stop bothering each other. Dean, did you find out about the potatoes?”

“Yeah, Sammy’s almost done.”

Aunt Amara pats Castiel on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” She pulls open the utensil drawer and takes out the tray inside. “Here, Anna, use these while setting the table. I’ll get the plates.”

“But I’m not done chewing Dean out for besmirching my pie!” Anna balances the tray in one arm and steps out of the way for Aunt Amara to get by with the plates.

Dean snorts and shakes his head, also stepping away to leave the doorway open. “If you can even call _pumpkin_ a pie. There’s no finesse to it! You just dump the shit in a crust and bam, done.”

“Them’s _fighting_ words, Winchester.” She reaches out to slap him in the shoulder with the napkins in her other hand.

He turns to her and brings both fists up, dropping into a balanced stance. “Bring it, short stuff.”

Castiel takes it all back. He _doesn’t_ like having them around anymore. Anna too. They’re all just a pain in his ass and _unhelpful_ when it really counts. “No fighting.” He steps between them, putting one hand on Dean’s chest to shove him further into the kitchen and one on Anna’s shoulder to push her back into the dining room. “Dean, I need _you_ to move the pies to the other counter so they’re out of the prep zone and put the whipped cream in the fridge. When you’re done, put the cranberry sauce out. The dish for it is already on the table. And Anna, I need _you_ to finish setting the table. _Now_.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Dean salutes again and crosses the kitchen quickly to do as told.

“You’re so _bossy_ today.” Anna huffs and brushes Castiel’s hand from her shoulder. “And you haven’t even greeted me properly. That’s _rude_ you know.”

He so doesn’t have the time for this, but he sighs and pulls her into a quick hug – even kissing the top of her head. “Hello, Anna. It’s nice to see you.”

“Of course it is. I’m a _pleasure_.” She hugs him back with one arm, the other full of the utensil tray. “How are you holding up? You need a break? I can come take over in here if you want.”

“I’ll have a break when we sit down to eat.” Castiel leaves her to step over and lift the lid on the crock-pot sitting on the short stretch of the counter between the stove and the entrance to the dining room. The meatballs have been simmering in their sauce for a few hours now and he gives them a quick stir. “But I can’t relax until _everyone does their job_.”

Dean comes up next to him with the open can of cranberry sauce in his hand. “You heard the boss. Get a move on, squirt.”

Anna squints at him for a brief moment before drawing herself up to her full height. It’s not very impressive compared to Dean and Castiel, who both stand at six feet (give or take an inch). To Castiel’s surprise, she actually _smiles_, and it’s in a weirdly relaxed way that starts a tight, uncomfortable feeling churning in his stomach.

“If you know food so well, then you’ve obviously been to the _Ladybird Diner_, huh?” She leans her hip against the counter and raises an eyebrow.

“Of course.”

Castiel has never been in person, but Anna has brought him take-out from there before. The food is pretty good and he’s enjoyed it. And it’s no surprise to him that Dean has had it before. If anything, Dean has probably eaten at every restaurant in Lawrence at least once. Neither would he doubt that Dean like has a mental catalog (possibly even a physical copy of it) of every restaurant he’s ever been to, organized by best to worst.

Anna hums to herself and nods in approval. “But have you had their hot beef sandwich? You haven’t _lived_ until you’ve had it.”

“Uh no. You’re wrong.” Dean shakes his head. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had their _buttermilk fried chicken sandwich_.”

Oh yes, that _is_ a good sandwich. Castiel privately agrees with him on that point. Anna’s sandwich is good too, but it doesn’t have that _zing_ to it that the chicken sandwich does.

This is something that she apparently does not agree with, because her smile falls into a squinty frown again. “Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-_huh_.”

“Oh, that’s it.” Anna stomps her foot and slaps him in the arm again with the napkins. “First you diss my pie, and now you diss my sandwich? You leave me no choice. Now I _have_ to prove you wrong. You. Me. Next Friday. Six o’clock at _Ladybird_. We’re going to settle this mano-e-mano.”

Castiel has been watching the conversation from the corner of his eye while taking an excessively long time to stir the meatballs. He’s not sure _why_ he hasn’t moved on to something else, but his position grants him the chance to see Dean’s back go rigid. There’s a startled cough in the dining room, followed by Amara swearing and muttering something about spilling her wine. Thank God she drinks white, because Castiel did _not_ want to have to try and get red wine out of the carpet.

The uncomfortable feeling in his belly grows worse and Castiel puts the lid back on the crock-pot, turning the heat down to _warm_. It sounds like Anna just asked Dean out and that – Why would she do that? They just – She hardly even knows him! Hell, _Castiel_ still feels like he barely knows him. Dean talks a lot and shares a lot, but he never shares anything of real importance. He knows the bare minimum about their past, and – and – and Anna _can’t_ date Dean.

“Um –” Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times before glancing at Castiel. Their eyes meet for a brief second before he looks back to Anna. “Sorry, kiddo.” He shakes his head and offers her a soft smile. “I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m not going to be in town by then.”

The news catches Castiel so off guard that his wings strain to spread from underneath his binder _and_ the normal shirt he’s wearing over it. He turns sharply to face him. “You’re _leaving_?”

Sam steps up behind Anna from where she’s mostly blocking the entry to the dining room. “We are.” Unlike Dean, at least _he_ has the courtesy to look ashamed for having not said something sooner. “It’s about time that we started hunting again.”

Dean shrugs and fidgets with the can of cranberry sauce, twisting it between his hands. “We saw that Dad took a job in Nevada. That’s not too far, so we figure we’ll head out in the next day or so and maybe we’ll catch him this time.”

All Castiel can manage to bring himself to say at first is a soft; “Oh.” He turns on his heel and moves over to the stretch of counter in the corner that separates the sink from the stove. “I see. That’s good news, isn’t it?”

There’s a sinking feeling behind his ribs that’s descending into his stomach and making it twist even more. He can’t believe that he’s feeling _disappointed_. Wasn’t it not too long ago that he couldn’t wait for them to leave? Castiel never really wanted them to stay in the first place, so he should be _happy_ to hear that they’re going to be leaving soon. Things can finally go back to normal.

A pile of vegetables are waiting to be chopped up and arranged on a tray. Castiel picks up the knife and grips it a little harder than he should. The handle digs into his palm and he has to consciously force himself to loosen his hold. If he squeezes too hard, he might actually crush the damn thing.

Silence reigns in the kitchen for a few moments before Sam breaks it. “The potatoes are finished and ready for the stove.”

“Oh, great.” Dean sounds rough and he clears his throat. “Bring ‘em over here and I’ll get them started. You can take over the c-sauce duty.”

“And Anna can come help me finish setting the table.” Aunt Amara calls from the dining room, her voice stern in the way that leaves no room to argue with her. So much so that Anna doesn’t say anything as she leaves the kitchen.

Castiel tries to distract himself with chopping the vegetables, but his mind won’t shut up. It keeps reminding him that they’re _leaving_. Sometime in the next few days his house is going to be quiet again and Castiel isn’t looking forward to it near as much as he thinks he should be.

Dean moves into his peripherals when he steps up to the sink with the pot of potatoes. He fills it, puts the cover on, and moves it to the stove to get it started. Castiel does his best to ignore him, just like how he tries _not_ to be worked up about this. There’s nothing to be worked up about. This is normal. They were always going to leave eventually and he’s been waiting _three weeks_ for this.

“Hey, Cas –” A hand lands lightly on his shoulder and Castiel jerks in surprise at the unexpected touch.

Pain flares briefly in his back as his wings strain against the binder again, but it’s quickly overrun by the _burn_ in his hand. He hisses and drops the knife after it slides across his palm instead of the pepper that he had been holding. Blood starts bubbling up immediately and he swings his hand over the sink so it won’t get everywhere.

“Oh _fuck_.” Dean swears and crowds in next to him. “Holy shit, holy _fuck_. I’m so sorry, Cas! I was just trying to get your attention.” He reaches over to turn the water on and guides Castiel’s hand under the spray. Once the blood is washed away, he pulls his hand up again to get a good look at the damage. “Shit, that’s deep.”

Castiel can feel himself go pale. “Am I going to need stitches?” Because stitches means _hospital_ and he can’t go there. They’ll find him out and – and – and his heart is going too fast and it’s starting to get hard to breathe.

“What’s going on?” Sam walks into the kitchen with the compost bucket full of potato peels. Anna and Aunt Amara are close behind him.

“It’s nothing, Sammy. Just an accident.” Dean cups Castiel’s hand in both of his, using his thumbs to encourage him to close his fingers over the gash in his palm. He smiles at him, soft and warm. “Don’t worry, Cas. You don’t need stitches and you’re going to be all better in a minute.”

Sam makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat. “Dean…”

“It’s fine, Sam.” He doesn’t look away or change his smile, but his tone takes a firm edge to it.

Castiel can’t even look to see why Sam sounds so apprehensive. He’s _very_ distracted by the pinprick of red glowing in the center of Dean’s pupil. And then his palm starts to itch considerably and he glances down to see why – even if he doesn’t want to see his skin split open. He’s immediately distracted by the fact that the veins in Dean’s hands are _glowing_.

That red light from his eyes is lighting up his veins, starting first in his hands and then travelling up under the sleeves of his turtleneck. The light reappears on his neck; crawling up his throat and cheeks until it branches into his eyes. They glow completely for several seconds before it fades away entirely.

Dean lets out a slow breath through his nose and steps back. He drops Castiel’s hand in the same motion and smiles brightly. “See? All better!”

Slowly, Castiel flexes his fingers. He looks back down at his hand and, sure enough, the cut is gone. It’s hard to tell beneath the blood that pooled in his palm, but his hand doesn’t hurt anymore. He looks back up at Dean, and he looks so _proud_ of himself with his hands tucked behind his back and that cheeky grin back in place.

Apparently his mutation involves _healing_. But if that’s the case, then how come Dean has scars? If he can heal others, why can’t he heal himself until all the scars are gone? He opens his mouth to ask the questions building on the tip of his tongue, but Sam sighs loudly, cutting him off.

“Cas, where do you keep the first-aid kit?”

“Under the bathroom sink.” Castiel glances at him, surprised to find him frowning. “But I don’t need –”

Sam shakes his head. “It’s not for you.”

“I’ll get it!” Anna vanishes in between one blink and the next.

If it’s not for him then who would the – Oh no. Castiel looks back to Dean to find him scowling at Sam. He holds out the hand not covered in blood. “Dean, show me your hands.”

“Why?” He looks back to Castiel with a smile that even _he_ can tell is strained. “There’s no reason to –”

“Show. Me. Your. _Hands_.”

Dean’s smile falls into a pout and he shifts on his feet. After a few seconds, he brings both his hands out in front of him. The left is cupped, and Castiel can see blood between his fingers. He sucks in a sharp breath before grabbing Dean’s wrist and forcing it over the sink.

“Why are you –” Castiel fumbles to turn the water on again. “What the _hell_ did you _do_, Dean?”

Anna suddenly blinks into place next to him. She takes one look at Dean’s hand before she pops the clasp on the kit and essentially dumps the contents out across the counter. “What do you need?”

“Seriously, guys, it’s nothing!” Dean whines and tugs uselessly at his hand, as if he could break Castiel’s grip. “This’ll heal up in a day. No stitches needed for anybody, and Sammy will you _stop glaring at me like that_! Jesus!”

Castiel shushes him and tightens his grip on his wrist. “Stop pulling.” A roll of paper towels is mounted to the underside of the cupboards next to the sink and Castiel rips one from it. He presses it against Dean’s palm, pushing down until he hisses. “That’s because you’re fighting. Now shut up and let me deal with this.”

Dean visibly bites his tongue and goes still at the flint in Castiel’s tone. He doesn’t move or speak again while Castiel carefully washes his hand with soap and water, dabbing it dry in between until the wound is clear enough for him to apply the antiseptic cream to it. Anna hands him the gauze pads next and Castiel presses it against Dean’s palm far more gently than he did before. Next is the cloth bandage, and he wraps that carefully around his hand a few times. He secures it with medical tape before letting go.

“There, all done.” He hands Anna the tape to put away. “We’ll change the bandage and wash it again before you go to bed.”

“But I’m telling you –”

His jaw snaps shut with an audible click when Castiel turns what very well might be his frostiest glare on him. “You will go sit down, have a drink, and wait for dinner in the other room.”

“But I –”

“_Sam_ and I will finish making dinner.”

Dean open and closes his mouth, resembling a fish for a few seconds, before he turns to Sam. “C’mon, man, help me out here!”

“We’re his guests, Dean.” Sam crosses his arms, looking none too pleased with his brother either. “I think you should probably do what he says.”

It still takes a few moments for Dean to listen to them. He looks back and forth between Castiel and Sam a few times before he throws his hands in the arm – and immediately winces, lowering his bandaged hand slowly. Dean follows that up with stomping out of the kitchen with his shoulders hunched up around his ears.

There’s still blood on Castiel’s hands – some his and some Dean’s. He turns to the sink again and starts scrubbing them clean; ignoring how they tremble slightly. His shoulders and back ache with how tense his body is right now; his wings trembling under the binder. Anna silently cleans up the mess she made with the first-aid kit, packing everything away into the box as nicely as she can. Sam busies himself at the stove while Castiel dries his hands; checking on the potatoes.

Castiel throws out the pepper he had been about to cut, not wanting to risk that he got blood on it. The knife he dumps in the sink and gets another from the block sitting in the corner by the radio. He starts on chopping vegetables with a mindless focus because if he doesn’t force himself to _not_ think, then it’s going to overload with everything he just learned. The Winchesters are leaving in the next few days and Dean just revealed his mutation.

Aunt Amara clears her throat next to him and Castiel very nearly cuts himself again. He glances at her as she pours herself another glass of wine over the sink. “You didn’t say thank you.”

“For what?” Castiel frowns and glances around. “For setting the table?”

She shakes her head. “He helped you and you didn’t thank him.” To accentuate her point, she raises her eyebrow at him while taking a testing sip from her glass. “What would your parents say about your manners, hm?”

Dammit, she has a point. He _hates_ it when she has a point. It always manages to make him feel like an ass. “I don’t like it when you guilt trip me.”

“It’s a magical power.” She wiggles the fingers of her free hand at him. “You get it when you become a mother. You should try it some time.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and frowns at Sam when he snorts and starts coughing into his fist like that will somehow cover the fact that he’s laughing. He doesn’t need empathy to see that. Even though he doesn’t particularly _want_ to talk to Dean right now, he really should. Dean thought he was doing something nice – that he was _helping_ – despite how Castiel would much rather carry his own wounds than have someone else take it for him.

With three sets of eyes on him, Castiel stalks out of the kitchen and into the dining room. They brought up one of the chairs from the basement to put at the end of the table. It was decided that he would be the one sitting at the head of the table with his back to the window, since it’s his house and all. And it seems Dean has elected to sit at the spot directly to what will be Castiel’s left when he sits down to eat.

Dean currently has his arms crossed and he’s slumped back in his chair, head turned to glare out the window. When Castiel takes his seat at the head of the table, he _harrumps_ and turns his head to look the other way. The snub may be deserved, but Castiel has to take a moment to calm himself when the gesture only serves to fan the embers of his own irritation.

He waits a moment before clearing his throat. “Thank you for helping me.”

The lines of Dean’s shoulders ease slightly and he turns his head just enough to look at Castiel from the corner of his eye. “S’nothing.”

“It’s not _nothing_, Dean.” Castiel looks down at his left hand and flexes his fingers again, stretching his palm as much as he can. “That’s _my_ cut on your hand, isn’t it?” He figures it must be, but he needs the confirmation. He needs to hear it.

“So what if it was?” Dean shrugs and turns just a little more.

The implications make Castiel queasy and he closes his eyes to calm himself. “Your mutation is –”

“Not a really obvious one.” Dean sighs and leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “I would’ve showed you sooner if I could, but it’s hard to unless someone else is hurt.” He rubs his good hand over his face. “Just sucks that it was _you_ that got hurt.”

“You didn’t have to –”

A soft smile tugs at the corner of Dean’s mouth and he shakes his head. “I know I didn’t.” He rubs his thumb over his injured palm. “But if I hadn’t surprised you, you wouldn’t have gotten cut and – Anyways, it’s a moot point. It’s over with and now you know. Ta-da!” He wiggles his hands in front of him, palms out. It’s brief before he slumps forward again. “And it’s no big deal for me to take it anyway. Part of my mutation is increased healing. Things like broken bones are cleared up in, like, a week.”

But all those scars… Castiel looks them over. The ones on Dean’s face aren’t _that_ bad, but his hands are covered in little white lines, some almost faded. If he heals so well, why does he have so many scars? How many more does he have hidden under his clothes? There are so many questions that Castiel wants to ask, but he bites them back. This isn’t the time for it.

Just like that, Dean’s mood flips like a switch. He rests his elbows on the table again and props his chin in his hands. “Well, Cas. I’ve showed you mine.” He winks. “Time for you to show me yours.”

Castiel is so used to Dean asking about his mutation that it doesn’t even really phase him anymore. He simply shakes his head and stands up. “I’m going to go check on the turkey and finish preparing dinner.”

Disappointment flickers across Dean’s face. It’s brief before he sits back again. “Fine, fine. Do you want me to help or am I still banished from the kitchen?”

“You already know the answer to that.” Castiel gives him a pointed look.

Aunt Amara meets him at the door to the kitchen. She nods and gives him a small smile as they pass each other. “Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll keep you company.” She passes him a full wine glass. “Join me with a drink. Wine okay?”

“For you, I’ll drink anything.” He grins and winks at her.

Part of him wants to stick around to keep an eye on the both of them, but Castiel has dinner to take care of and he doesn’t want to leave it to Anna and Sam. That’s not fair to them when they’re both guests. That and Anna is honestly a _horrible_ cook. If he leaves her in charge of things, the turkey is going to be dry and the mashed potatoes will have hard bits left in it – and she probably won’t add butter or milk to them to make them nice and creamy.

Thankfully, Anna isn’t anywhere near the stove. She’s standing at the counter that runs the length of the wall separating the dining room door from the hall door. While she could easily be loafing off, Anna is keeping herself busy by dumping the bag of dinner rolls into a large bowl. There’s a stick of butter next to her, waiting to be plated. Her cooking skills may be abysmal, but at least she’s helpful.

Castiel pats her on the shoulder before he goes to the stove. He stirs the meatballs in the crock-pot again just to be safe, before checking on the potatoes. They’re boiling now, but they’re not as tender as he wants them to be. Good, because the turkey should be just about done and it needs to be carved and plated before dinner can be served.

The only time Castiel ever cooks all out is for guests and this is the biggest Thanksgiving he’s had since his parents died. Even though he and Anna have big appetites, the Winchesters match them bite for bite and then some. He had to _double_ the amount of food tonight, just for them.

Sam is finishing up with chopping the abandoned vegetables he makes sure that he’s out of the way so Castiel can pull the turkey out of the oven. There are trivets waiting on the far side of the sink and he moves the roasting pan to them. After turning down the heat in the oven a bit, Castiel puts Aunt Amara’s casserole in it to warm up.

Focusing on carving the turkey and scooping out the stuffing really helps distract him from _thoughts_. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the revelation of Dean’s mutation – and what that means. Now that he knows what both brothers are capable of, it’s almost unfair that he hasn’t shown them his wings yet. But he can’t bring himself to do that. He just _can’t_.

Someone clears their throat at his elbow and Castiel looks over to find Sam waiting. Anna is no longer in the kitchen and he can hear her talking with Aunt Amara and Dean in the dining room.

As soon as Sam has Castiel’s attention, he leans in to speak in a lowered voice. “Now that you know what Dean’s mutation is, I need to ask that you try and be careful about your safety.” His eyes are serious and his mouth is drawn in a grim line. “Dean considers you a friend now, and he _always_ tries to take any injury from the people he cares about.”

Sam puts a hand on Cas’s arm and squeezes lightly. “I’m happy to have you as a friend, but you’re going to need to be careful now too. Just try not to get hurt – especially in any life threatening ways, okay?” When Castiel ducks his head, Sam squeezes harder. “I’m serious, Cas.” He drops his voice into a whisper. “If you want to understand more, you should ask Dean to show you what’s under his shirt sometime.”

Castiel frowns and blinks at Sam. What in the world is _that_ supposed to mean? He’s touched that they consider him a friend, but who goes around getting life threatening wound all the time? If anything, he should be the _last_ person they should worry about. He rarely leaves his house, let alone goes out gallivanting across the country hunting dangerous mutants and wanted criminals.

When he realizes that Sam isn’t going to let go of his arm until he gives a proper answer, Castiel nods slowly. “I’ll be careful.”

Sam drops his hand and smiles. “Thank you.” He turns away to grab the plate of vegetables and moves them to the long counter on the other side of the kitchen where most of the food will be to make something like a dinner buffet so they save space on the dining table.

Now not even carving the turkey is enough to stop his brain from running away a million miles a minute. And yet it still stalls out every time he thinks of how Sam called him a friend. They think of him as a _friend_. Does he consider _them_ friends? At this point, he’s spent more time with them than he has anyone outside of his family in his entire life. Castiel hasn’t had friends since before his mutation presented. Anna has been his best friend for so long and – and he really likes the pleasant glow building in his chest.

* * *

Dinner ended _hours_ ago and Castiel is still stuffed. He feels bloated and he can hardly move where he’s stretched out on his side on the recliner. Everything was cleaned up and half the leftovers were sent home with Anna and Aunt Amara when they left after watching _Muppet Treasure Island_. Sam is draped across the seat by the window, feet kicked up on the ottoman. Dean is spread out across the couch, taking up as much space as he physically can.

The recliner is turned just enough for Castiel to see the TV again, this time with it turned the other way so the chair is actually facing the couch. _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ is interesting, but it’s lulling him into a trance like doze. Whenever he’s like this, his mind drifts and wanders, lazily moving from one thought to the next and going over all the things that happened today.

It’s probably not the right time to do it, but Castiel hums and glances at the couch. “Dean?”

He’s almost fully on his stomach, face squished into the pillow he’s hugging to his chest. His eyes are half open, clearly also nearly asleep. Instead of answering with words, Dean just grunts.

“What’s under your shirt?”

Dean tenses the instant the words are out of his mouth. After a few long moments of silence, he breathes out heavily through his nose. “I’m going to fucking _kill you_, Sam.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow at the same time Dean lifts his head to glare at Sam. In turn, Sam seems particularly focused on the movie. In fact, he appears to be acting like he didn’t hear anything and isn’t about to be throttled by his brother.

If this was such a sensitive thing to ask about, why in the world would Sam have told him to ask Dean about it? Castiel feels like he’s been set up. The best course of action would be to apologize and explain, but before he can say anything more, Dean sits up.

“Nope, we’re not talking about this.” He points a finger at Castiel and shakes his head. “If you want to see mine, then you’re going to have to show me yours. That’s the deal.”

Is there more to Dean’s mutation underneath his shirt? Castiel is curious, but is he curious enough to be willing to show his wings? He’s spent twenty days – _twenty _whole days – with the Winchesters, and every day he hid his wings under his housecoat or by staying in his bedroom or office. But he stopped spending so much time in either of those rooms nearly a week and a half ago. That’s about when he stopped being so afraid of them.

And now? Well, now Castiel kind of considers them friends. He still gets a tingling _zing_ of anxiety tightening around his lungs, but it’s not as bad as before. As much as it terrifies him, maybe he _should_ show them his wings before they leave. Anna did have a point about how they likely won’t judge him for it. Castiel has never had a problem having his wings out around her or Aunt Amara. It’s just _other people_ and – well, Dean and Sam have somehow worked their way out of that category and into something a little closer to where he keeps his family.

He sits up a little more. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Why do you want to know my mutation so badly?”

Dean is sitting up now, pillow still held to his chest. He stops glaring at Sam in favour of looking to Castiel. “Because you have a gift, Cas. You have a gift and you’re hiding them. I get why you hide it from the normies, but you don’t need to hide them from _us_.”

Castiel sits up more, lowering the foot rest. “You already know what my mutation is, don’t you?”

“I’ve got a strong suspicion, yeah.” Dean shrugs and almost looks _amused_. “A mangled feather came up in my washing when I did a load after you and it sure as hell wasn’t from any pillow. It doesn’t take a genius to put that together with your hunch and your love for long coats.”

Sam nods along, although he hasn’t taking his eyes off the movie. Is he _still_ trying to act like he’s not paying attention?

“If you knew, why haven’t you said anything?” Castiel closes the foot rest and turns in his seat to face Dean properly.

“Because you’ll show me – show _us_ when you’re ready.” Dean’s smile turns soft – easy – warm. He _understands_ and a lump forms in Castiel’s throat. “I thought I might be able to speed you along by asking about it a lot, but you’re one stubborn son-of-a-bitch, y’know that?”

He worries at his bottom with his teeth for a moment, head tilting to the side. “And what if you leave before I’m ready to show you?”

Dean fakes a dramatic pout and he leans his head back, the back of his hand coming up to rest on his forehead. “I’ll cry myself to sleep _every night_.” But then his grin ruins it all as he rolls his head to the side to flutter his eyelashes at him.

Castiel feels like curling in on himself and he hunches forward. He’s torn about showing them his wings, but Dean is wrong. “They’re not a gift.” At those words, Dean’s smile falls. “They’re a _curse_.”

That gets Sam to finally look away from the movie. His frown mirrors Dean's and they share a quick look before turning back to him. “Being a mutant isn’t a curse, Cas.”

“Yeah.” Dean scoots forward on the couch, sitting on the edge of the cushion. “We’re just the next step in evolution. We’re _awesome_.”

Surprisingly, there hasn’t been much that Castiel has disagreed with either of them on since they got here. This is one of the very few things that they _definitely_ don’t see eye to eye on. And this is also something that Castiel feels _very_ passionately about.

“_This _isn’t awesome.” He gestures around him at his house – his _prison,_ if you think about it. “Awesome would mean being able to live a normal life. I _can’t_ do that with my mutation. If I registered myself right now, I would be arrested. I could even be sent to _The Facility_!” Castiel takes a deep breath and his hands curl into shaking fists. “If I was registered when I presented like I was supposed to be, I wouldn’t have any of what I do now. I wouldn’t own this house, or the property. I doubt I would even have either of my jobs. Because I’m unregistered, I can’t go out. I can’t even have _friends_. I can’t –”

“_We’re_ your friends.” Sam interrupts, voice quiet but enough to bring Castiel’s rant to a sharp stop.

Now they’re both looking at him the same way they have since the day they met. It’s a combination of understanding and pity. Castiel hates it when they look at him like that. And yet he still deflates, his anger whooshing out of him. But he’s still too worked up to continue watching the movie.

With a sigh, Castiel gets to his feet. “I’m tired and going to bed now. Goodnight.”

“Cas –” Dean is standing in a heartbeat, but Castiel is done with tonight.

Everything has culminated to being too overwhelming for him. A big, busy dinner; Dean’s mutation; the revelation that they already know his mutation – or _most_ of it, at least. It’s too much. He doesn’t stick around to find out what Dean has to say and makes sure to lock his bedroom door behind him.

Having a barrier between them helps him relax a little bit, but it’s not by a lot. Castiel shrugs out of his housecoat and leaves it in a lump on the floor. He strips off his shirt and the binder, dropping them both as he makes his way to the bed. By the time he gets there, he’s also stripped out of his pants. His room is kept warmer than the rest of the house and there’s no chill now that he’s almost naked.

Instead of lying down, Castiel turns to look at himself in the mirror. He spreads his dull wings and stares at them, nose crinkling in disgust. How could Dean think they’re a _gift_. If anything, they’re a cage. For over twenty years now, Castiel has been trapped in his house by his wings and the anxiety of being found out.

It’s different for Dean and Sam. They’re mutants who don’t _look_ like mutants. They look _normal_, even with Dean’s scars. How could either of them ever understand what it’s like for him? Castiel hates his wings and if he could be rid of them, he would be.

He turns away from the mirrors and flops face first down on his bed. It’s too much work to get his pajamas, and too much effort to even get underneath the blanket. All he can bring himself to do is bury his face in his pillow and start counting. When he counts, he doesn’t think – he doesn’t have to focus on the distant muted noise of the TV or the quiet rumble of voices.

Castiel keeps counting even when the noise in the living room stops. He counts through the sound of footsteps coming up on the hall and the bathroom door closing. First one brother and then the other uses the bathroom; the pipes rattling when the toilet flushes and the sink runs. After the second time, the door to the guest room closes.

After that, the house is quiet and Castiel continues to count.

He keeps counting until he falls into a fitful sleep.

* * *

** _Friday – November 24th, 2017_ **

For the first time that month, Castiel alarm clock is what wakes him. He hasn’t heard its buzzing since Dean and Sam started staying here. They both wake up earlier than him and the sound of other people moving around the house has always woken him. Sometimes it was too early, and sometimes it was just minutes before his alarm would have normally gone off.

He shivers slightly, still on top of the blanket. The house is quiet and he doesn’t even think about it as he slides to his feet. Castiel shuffles into the bathroom and, a few minutes later, shuffles out still feeling like death. It’s not until he’s shrugging into his housecoat does he realize what’s wrong with this morning. There’s no smell of breakfast like there usually is.

Did Dean decide to sleep in after such a heavy dinner yesterday?

Castiel shuffles into the hallway and immediately realizes that something is wrong. The thermostat is on the wall between his bedroom and the guest room, and he glances at it to confirm that the heat is still on. It shows that the house should be toasty to the temperature that he normally prefers. And yet, the house still feels _colder_ than it usually does.

The door to the guest room is open. Sam always sleeps with the door shut and Castiel frowns, taking a step closer to peek inside. His heart suddenly drops from his chest to his feet. The sheets have been stripped from the bed and are bundled in the hamper next to the door. The blanket is folded neatly at the end of the bare mattress with naked pillows stacked on top of it. Sam’s duffle bag – or anything to prove that he was ever there – is nowhere to be seen.

His stomach joins his heart as he speed walks up the hall to the living room. He doesn’t even bother checking the kitchen to see if anyone is in there, because he knows it’s just as empty as the guest room – and the living room. The sheets are missing from the couch too, but the blanket and the pillows he had given Dean are stacked on the recliner. Dean’s duffle, which had sat at the end of the couch in the corner of the room, is gone too.

Castiel tries swallowing, but his mouth is suddenly dry and there’s a lump in his throat.

He fists his hands in his housecoat and crosses the living room to the window. The driveway is just as empty as his house; Dean’s precious car nowhere in sight. It’s possible that he might have parked it in the garage, but he hasn’t done that once since they started staying here.

The house is warm, but Castiel has never felt so cold.

He doesn’t know how long he stands at the window, waiting as if they might be coming up the driveway at any moment.

Eventually, Castiel turns away. He returns to his bedroom, shutting the door on the silence. When he crawls back into bed, he tucks his wings in and pulls the blanket over them too.

The house is quiet.

Cold.

_Empty_.

And so is he.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Saturday – November 25th, 2017_ **

The bedroom door bangs against the wall as it’s thrown open. “Okay, what the _hell_!” Castiel lifts his head from the pillow to find Anna standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “You haven’t been answering my messages!”

He groans and pulls the pillow over his head. Who cares if it’s Saturday? Castiel still doesn’t want to get up and do anything. He didn’t want to be bothered by anyone, not even Anna. Why should he get up? It’s not like he _wants _to face his empty house and be reminded of how the Winchesters left nothing of themselves behind. They cleaned up and now they’re gone and he’s alone again.

Anna climbs up on the bed and Castiel grumbles nonsense noise into the mattress at the sound of the curtains being drawn back. A blast of chilly air, felt even through the blanket pulled up over his back and wings, tells him that she _also_ opened the window because she lives up to the stereotypes of redheads. Clearly Anna has no soul. She’s so _cruel_ to try and get him out of bed when he doesn’t want to move for the rest of his life.

“It’s _noon_, Castiel James Novak. Get your ass out of bed this instant.”

Uh oh. Anna used his full name. She means _business_.

Castiel groans and peeks out from under the pillow to glare at her. “No.”

“You have until the count of _three_ before I go and get the hose.”

He hunches his shoulders and pulls the blanket up around them more. “Don’t want to.”

“I can’t believe Dean let you sleep this long.” Anna huffs and jumps off the bed. “Where the hell are they anyway? It’s not like him to take a trip into town without waking you up first.”

Castiel hates the ache that blooms in his chest. They were only here a month but it was long enough for them to develop habits enough for Anna to notice. And she didn’t spend nearly as much time with them as he did. Almost everything that she knows about the Winchesters was learned second hand from what Castiel would tell her at the end of every other day when she texted him for updates on the situation.

“They _left_.” He hisses out from beneath the pillow.

Anna goes quiet – not even moving around the room. “Oh.” After a moment, the edge of the bed dips and she places a gentle hand in the small of his back. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, sweetie.”

He shrugs and pulls the pillow off his head so he can lay on it properly. Castiel doesn’t feel like talking about it or doing anything about it. The Winchesters muscled their way into his life by not-quite-but-technically blackmailing him into letting them stay here. If anything, he should be _happy_ that they’re gone now, but all he feels is sadness. He shouldn’t feel like something is _missing_ now – like it’s going to be impossible to get out of bed.

On top of all that, he’s also missed a whole day of work. There are time sensitive recordings that need to be transcribed and it’s not good for his reputation in the transcribing world to take too long to complete them. He could lose clients if they’re not done in a timely manner.

After a few minutes of silence, Anna pats him directly on the butt. “Okay, c’mon now, let’s get up.” She stands up again. “Weren’t we going to go grocery shopping today? I guess Dean isn’t going to drive us, so I’m ordering a taxi right now to come pick us up.”

“Go without me.”

“You’re acting like you just got dumped.” She sighs loudly and he can hear the muted tap of her fingers on the screen of her phone. “You knew they were only staying temporarily. Now _get up_.”

No, he doesn’t want to because now he’s _alone_ again. Castiel can’t stand the idea of going through the house and there not being laughter in the living room while they watch something stupid. There won’t be the clatter of dishes in the kitchen while Dean makes something delicious again, or the clank of weights and the whir of the treadmill while Sam works out in the basement. It will just be silence and emptiness forever again.

The Winchesters were here for less than a month and somehow they managed to worm their way past all of Castiel’s defenses. They weren’t supposed to be able to _do_ that. Now he feels their absence like the loss of a limb and he _hates it_.

He hates it almost as much as he hates Anna right now. She grabs handfuls of the blanket by his feet and lifts it slightly. “I’m going to count to _three_.”

“You’re not my mom.” Castiel gets as good a grip on the blanket as he can and braces himself. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

“I may not be your mom, but I _am_ the kick in the ass you need.” Anna gives the blanket a good yank and she must be bracing her foot against the bottom of the bed, because she definitely has way more leverage than expected. “Now _get up_.”

Castiel puts up as good a fight as possible, but he has to let go or risk his grip ripping one of his best blankets. The room has cooled off considerably with the window open and he curls up on himself, shivering once his blanket is gone. This isn’t _fair_. Anna knows that he hates the cold and she’s using it against him like the sneaky little rat that she is.

She stands at the edge of the bed with her hands on her hips, glaring him down. Castiel makes sure to groan as loudly as possible and move as slowly as he can while getting up. Anna moves out of his way and points at the bathroom. They stare each other down briefly before he stomps into the bathroom and slams the door as best as he can. It’s rather difficult given that it’s a sliding pocket door, but he’s satisfied with what he manages to do.

The light is off in the bathroom and the window above the toilet is covered with both a shade and curtains. Castiel keeps the light off because he doesn’t want to look in the mirror and see what he looks like. He sits to use the toilet so he doesn’t miss, and he brushes his teeth in the dark. Anna is still moving around in his bedroom and he tries to put off going back out there for as long as he can; scrubbing his teeth until he tastes blood.

By that point he can’t find reason to hide in the bathroom any longer. He slides the door open just a little bit to peek out into the room. The window is closed again and Anna appears to have laid out clothes for him on his bed. She’s clanking around in the kitchen now, but it sounds _entirely _different to when it was Dean making him breakfast. That one difference makes something twinge painfully behind his ribs.

Castiel presses a hand to his sternum and takes a deep breath, hoping to make that feeling go away. He changes under silent protest and drags his feet out into the hall. Anna is waiting for him in the kitchen with a bowl of Cheerios and the coffee machine chugging away to brew a pot.

She holds the bowl out, milk already added and Cheerios well on their way to being soggy. “Eat.”

“I don’t want to.” He crosses straight to the coffee and starts preparing his mug with the necessary cream and sugar.

Anna grabs him by the arm and pulls him around to face her. “Castiel James Novak, you _will_ sit your ass down and eat your breakfast.” She shoves the bowl into his hands, nearly sloshing its contents all over the place. “Sit down and eat or I’m going to call _my_ mom on you.”

Instead of giving him a chance to answer about what a low blow that is, Anna turns her nose up and huffs her way out of the kitchen. She doesn’t even wait around long enough for him to point out that he literally _just_ brushed his teeth. But he would rather deal with a slight toothpaste flavour to his Cheerios than to have Aunt Amara yell at him over the phone about how he’s an adult and he should be acting like one. She’s _very_ good at laying on the guilt trips.

As soon as his coffee is ready, Castiel takes it to the dining room and forces himself to eat some of the Cheerios. They’re not as soggy as they look, but he can only manage a couple spoonfuls before his stomach protests. What little appetite he actually had dried up the moment he sat down and realized that the extra chair brought up for Thanksgiving is still sitting at the head of the table. His stomach drops every time he even glances at it.

While he forces himself to eat, Anna continues to make herself busy. She gathers up the sheets and pillowcases that Dean and Sam were using and she goes downstairs to start a load of laundry. Anna even takes the blanket and spare pillows down to storage again. For that, Castiel is thankful. It would have likely been another month before he would have been able to work himself up to the point where he could put it all away himself.

Once his stomach officially vetoes further Cheerios, Castiel dumps the rest of it down the garburator and runs it. He leaves the dishes in the sink and polishes off the last of his coffee. The next cup he pours himself actually goes right into the waiting travel mug, because he knows that Anna is going to make him go shopping with her whether he wants to or not. It’s been like that ever since his parents died and it’s not going to change just because he feels sad that his friends left over an argument and without a goodbye .

Anna shows up at his elbow again, this time with his binder hanging from her fingers. “Alright. Let’s get this on before we go out.”

He leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms. “I don’t want to go. I didn’t work yesterday and I need to –”

“What you _need_ is some fresh air and to stretch your legs.” She reaches out and tugs at the shoulders of his shirt. “Now get this off so we can get a move on. The taxi is almost here.”

She doesn’t give him much choice and all but completely manhandles Castiel into getting his arms and head out of the top half of the shirt. It hangs down over his stomach while she helps him get into his binder and properly pin his wings down.

“Good.” Anna steps back once his shirt is in place again. “Now hurry up. The taxi will be here in a moment.” She grabs him by the arm and starts pulling him out towards the foyer. He barely manages to grab his coffee so it doesn’t get left behind.

Castiel grumbles as he puts his coat on and arranges it over his shoulders properly. He’s never liked being rushed to do anything, and Anna is _really_ starting to get on his nerves as she herds him down the stairs and into the foyer. They both come to a sudden stop when they notice that there is a folded piece of paper stuck to the door with the letters D, S, and W from the alphabet scattered across the fridge.

“Oh.” Anna carefully slides the paper out from under the magnets without knocking them off the door. “How long has this been here?”

“I assume since they left.” Castiel takes it from her, hands surprisingly steady. “How did you not notice this when you came in? Or when you went down to do the laundry.”

Her nose crinkles and she sticks her tongue out at him before turning to put on her shoes. “I blinked in because I forgot my key. And I wasn’t looking at the door when I went downstairs.”

Castiel slips his shoes on too and follows her out into the cool November air. It’s not as bad as it could be, but he likes it to be somewhere in the seventies instead of the low sixties they’ve got going on right now. Winter is almost here and he is _not_ looking forward to it.

Anna takes the keys from his pocket to lock the door behind them. She guides Castiel towards the waiting taxi with a hand on his elbow. He’s too preoccupied with the note to pay attention to much else.

> _Hey Cas,_  
Sorry we didn’t wake you. After last night <strike>we</strike> _**I**_ thought it might be best for us to head out quietly.  
Don’t know when we’ll be back in town, but we’ll pop in if you still want to see us. Hey, here’s an idea! Maybe next time you could come **with** us! It’d be good for you to travel a bit. You can’t stay locked up in this chicken coop all the time. That’s not healthy for you. (But for serious… You have a really nice place here).  
I made a sandwich from leftovers for you in the fridge. The bread will be soggy by now but you won’t even notice if you soak it in gravy.  
You should text/call us some time, okay?  
See ya!

Below their carefully printed initials are their phone numbers. There’s something next to the DW that has been scribbled over repeatedly with spirals. It’s such a dense cluster that Castiel has no idea what it could have been before Dean decided to cover it up.

“So, what’s it about?” Anna opens the back door to the taxi and slides across to the other side.

“It’s a typical goodbye note.” Castiel folds it up and tucks it into the inside pocket of his coat. He takes the seat next to her, feeling _miles_ better than he did a few minutes ago.

The fact that they parted after an argument still weighs heavy on his conscience, but at least Castiel has their phone numbers now. The Winchesters aren’t completely gone from his life anymore. Unfortunately, this means that he is now faced with having to figure out what the hell he’s going to message them as an apology for Thursday night.

*

** _Monday – November 27th, 2017_ **

Castiel steps away from the bathroom mirror in the midst of brushing his teeth. His cell phone mocks him in its silence from where it’s charging on his nightstand. Aside from Anna and his aunt, and the notifications when he receives emails, there hasn’t been much incoming activity. While that is usually the norm, he’s still strangely disappointed that Dean and Sam haven’t texted him yet. He assumes they must have his number since they were able to find his address so easily.

Of course the best way to make sure that they _do_ have his number would be for him to call them or send them a message himself. Of course Castiel hasn’t done that, though not for a lack of trying. He’s typed both their numbers into his phone a number of times in an attempt to call them, but each time he’s chickened out and never actually hit the call button. A few times he’s also tried composing messages to them, but nothing ever sounds right and he ends up deleting them.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Castiel also hasn’t actually _saved_ their numbers yet. He’s essentially memorized the letter that they left, including the numbers, but that’s different from saving them to his phone. The note itself is folded up underneath his phone at the moment, and he’ll probably re-read it again before officially turning in for the night.

He’ll re-read it, but he won’t send them a message and he won’t call them because he’s a _coward_ and a terrible friend.

*

** _Thursday – December 14th, 2017_ **

The fact that the Winchester’s stay ended on a sour note has haunted Castiel since the day they left. And every day he looks at his phone and hates himself a little more because he _still_ hasn’t figured out a way to make it better. An apology would certainly help, but he has to word that appropriately and he’s still at a loss in that department.

It kills him that they were his friends – if not the closest thing to friends he’s had in a very long time – and he _ruined _it. Clearly neither Dean nor Sam hate being a mutant. If Castiel had just kept his big mouth shut, they wouldn’t have fought about their obviously differing opinions on being mutants. His opinion hasn’t changed in the days since they left, but he keeps kicking himself for having said anything at all. Maybe they would still be here if he hadn’t said anything.

On the bright side, it’s been long enough since they left that things feel back to normal again. Castiel wakes up to his alarm and goes about his daily life the same as he did before the Winchesters ever showed up on his front step. Only sometimes does it feel like something is _missing_, but he firmly ignores that feeling and carries on. He’s very good at ignoring things.

Castiel has even started ignoring the note now. It’s still on the side table next to his bed, but he hasn’t opened it in a few weeks. Not that it matters, of course, since he now has the damn thing memorized. Which somehow only makes him feel _more_ guilty for not contacting the Winchesters in the weeks since they left.

What if they think that the silence means that he doesn’t want anything to do with them again? What if they never reach out to him because he never initiated contact? What if _they_ hate him now? It makes Castiel’s stomach turn to even consider that they might never message him. There’s always the possibility that they _don’t_ have his phone number – in which case they’re waiting for him and – and he’s put it off for too long.

Castiel grabs his phone and opens the messaging app. He types in Dean’s phone number before composing a message. Since it’s been so long since they spoke last, it would be best to keep it simple. “Hello, Dean.” He reads it out as he types, testing out how it sounds in case he types something stupid. “How are you? Hope the weather wherever you are is good. We finally started seeing some snow here. It’ll be a white Christmas after all!”

His thumb hovers over the _send_ button, and he reads it over and over again. “Oh God that sounds so _dumb_.” Castiel shakes his head and deletes everything.

Before he deletes the number too, he pauses. If he can’t do a message yet, then the least he could do is save the damn number, right? Right. Squaring his shoulders, Castiel steels himself and taps through the button path to save the number. Even typing _Dean Winchester_ into the name field feels like an effort, but he pushes through it and hits save.

It might not be something to be proud of, but Castiel _does_ feel a sense of accomplishment. Especially when he creates another new contact and saves Sam’s number next. This is a step in the right direction. And maybe the next time he goes to try to send a message, he might actually be able to hit send.

*

** _Monday – December 25th, 2017_ **

A soft snore from the couch, though quiet, is enough to get Castiel to blink out of his own slow doze. He lifts his head enough to glance at the couch and see who the offender was. Aunt Amara is curled up on her side with her head in Anna’s lap. She had a _lot_ of eggnog and he’s surprised she didn’t pass out a lot sooner. Anna is out cold too with her head tilted against the back of the couch. Her Santa hat is tilted over her eyes and her mouth is open. She gives another quiet snore and Castiel rolls his eyes. Of course it was her.

_The Miracle on 34th Street_ is still playing on the TV and he settles back down on the recliner to finish watching it. Their evening together was busy and the first that his house has felt full and warm again in a month. Castiel actually feels satisfied – both in appetite and emotionally. The company was excellent and the food delicious. They generally only have a variety of appetizers on Christmas Eve with the bigger dinner being Christmas Day. It won’t be quite the affair that Thanksgiving was, but it will still be good.

They’ve been lazy since their so-called dinner, to the point that they haven’t even cleaned up from when they opened presents. It’s always been a family tradition to exchange one gift on Christmas Eve, and it’s always pajamas. Aunt Amara buys for both Anna and Castiel, and then the two of them go in together to get her a pair. Once the gifts are opened, they all change and spend the rest of the night watching various Christmas movies until they pass out.

This year, Aunt Amara got them matching onesies in green and red Christmas prints. She had even gone to the effort of altering Castiel’s clothing for him. Most years she just gets him pajama pants since he hardly ever wears a shirt to bed. But these are nice – though it is weird to be wearing one piece of clothing with a _butt flap_. For Aunt Amara, Castiel and Anna bought the softest two piece they could find in the most ridiculous reindeer pattern possible.

This is always Castiel’s favourite time of the year. Not because of the holidays and getting gifts, but because of the company. Anna and Aunt Amara stay with him from Christmas Eve until New Year’s day. It’s several days of having people _here_ and he loves it. He never loved Christmas time as much when his parents were around. Now it’s a treat that he looks forward to all year long.

And every year it’s the same. Aunt Amara takes the spare bedroom while Anna either sleeps on the couch or ends up in Castiel’s bed with him. There’s a reason that he took his parents’ queen size bed and replaced it with a king. Anna doesn’t cuddle, but she’s a kicker. She’ll bring her own blanket to bed and shoves his over until they both have only one side of the bed each.

The movie will probably be over in half an hour and that’s about when they should turn in officially. It’s already after midnight, according to the digital display on the DVD player, so technically it’s actually Christmas Day right now. They’ll probably sleep until almost noon before they get up for breakfast and to open the presents under the tree. Since it’s only the three of them and they only have to buy two presents each, it’s not going to take long.

When his phone buzzes on the table, Anna snorts and shifts on the couch but otherwise doesn’t wake up. Castiel sits up just enough to be able to reach his phone and squints when he swipes to turn it on. After turning down the brightness, he’s finally able to actually _see_ what’s on the screen. The background of his phone is one of the generic ones that came with the phone because he hasn’t really had anything to set as a wallpaper that he feels strongly about using. Against the dark purple background, Castiel has to re-read the name of the text message a few times before he sits up sharply.

It’s from _Dean_.

Castiel takes a few moments too long to open the message. **_Merry Christmas Cas_** glows against the black of his texting app. It’s followed by a number of emojis; Christmas trees, presents, Santa Claus, and holly. By the time he’s read it three or four times, Castiel realizes that he’s smiling. This might not qualify as a Christmas miracle, but it certainly feels like it. He wasn’t where he needed to be to reach out first, though he was close, but Dean took that step for him.

Instead of answering with words or even more emojis, Castiel looks up a dancing Santa Claus gif and sends that. He gets a laughing emoji in response a few moments later. Even though the conversation is short, he still reads it over again a few times.

It’s a start, and he’s happy with it. With a satisfied hum, Castiel settles back to finish watching the rest of the movie. He’ll wake up Anna and Aunt Amara after the movie and they can all sleep comfortably until the morning. Until then, he’ll bask in this feeling of _warmth _that’s made itself at home in his chest.

*

** _Monday – January 1st, 2018_ **

“Smile!”

Anna holds her cellphone up with the selfie mode on. She steps up next to him just as Aunt Amara steps up to Castiel’s other side. There’s no escaping this photo-op, but he still sticks his tongue out at the camera hoping that might ruin it. Of course it doesn’t and they make quite the picture as both Aunt Amara and Anna lean in to kiss him on both cheeks. They push in harder than they need to, squishing his face comically because that’s _so_ comfortable.

After several quick snaps, Anna steps back and flips through the pictures to check on them. “Perfect!”

“Do you have to take one _every_ year?” Castiel sighs and uses the sleeve of his sweater to rub Aunt Amara’s lipstick off his cheek.

“Don’t you dare mock my collection.” She sniffs at him and goes about deleting the duplicate pictures.

It’s barely a few minutes later when both Aunt Amara’s phone and Castiel’s phone bing with the notification that they received the picture. Anna always sends them both a copy. One of these days, Castiel should actually do something with them rather than just leave them in the cloud. Maybe he can make a collage of them for Anna’s birthday next October. That would probably be something that she would like.

His first impulse after hearing his text tone is to check his phone, especially since he’s started texting with the Winchesters. This time, Castiel resists that urge. He knows that it’s going to be Anna. So instead of reaching for his phone, he takes a shot with his Aunt. Tequila _always_ tastes terrible and he only ever drinks with his Aunt because that’s apparently something she never quite got over from her ‘_wild days_’, as his dad used to put it. Though, according to him, she’s nowhere near as bad as she used to be.

Aunt Amara cackles at the face he pulls after knocking back the shot and she slaps him on the back a few times. While Castiel does occasionally have beer in the fridge, he doesn’t usually drink unless it’s with someone else. When the Winchesters were here, he had a beer almost every other day with them. Even though he can’t even get a buzz from alcohol, Dean still drinks beer and whiskey – for the _taste_! It seems no one has told him that they all taste _awful_.

Castiel’s choice to rarely keep alcohol in his house is for a very good reason. He has fought _hard_ not to become an alcoholic. It would be so easy for him to fall into those habits. His dad made sure to give him a _very_ thorough talk about how alcohol doesn’t solve anything and that he should learn from his Aunt’s mistakes. Anna, while unplanned, was obviously not a mistake, but alcohol absolutely played a part in her conception.

Anna quickly takes a shot too. She grimaces and shakes her head. “Ooo, that’s nasty.” She gives a full body shudder before standing up. “I’m going to get the vacuum cleaner.” To emphasize her point, Anna kicks at the confetti from the party poppers they used at the end of the countdown to midnight.

Before she even leaves the room, Castiel’s phone bings again. He rocks to one side to get it out of his pocket, fumbling slightly because that was _not_ his first tequila shot of the evening. Anna’s picture is the first message, but the second is from Dean. This time it’s nothing more than a string of emojis. Some seem related to New Year’s Eve – like poppers and fireworks – but then there are also lips and kissing emojis too. Castiel knows exactly what those mean and he rolls his eyes at it. Dean; always a flirt.

In response to Dean’s emojis, he forwards the picture that Anna sent him. To that, he adds; **_Happy New Year Dean and Sam!_**

To his surprise, Dean answers surprisingly quickly. **_Holy shit i'm so jealous rn!_**

He follows that up with a picture of his own. Castiel opens it eagerly, waving off the next shot that Aunt Amara offers. She shrugs and downs it herself.

The picture is of both brothers, sitting on a ratty looking couch in the middle of someone’s living room. Dean is wearing novelty 2018 glasses and Sam has a party hat on. They’re both grinning big and bright. There is a woman standing behind the couch, facing away from the camera. Her black jeans are low riding and her tank top isn’t long enough to hide the scribble of a written tattoo in the small of her back. Castiel can’t tell what it says from the quality of the picture.

Beyond the woman are several more people, but they’re all blurry since the Winchesters are obviously the focus of the picture. That said, Castiel still tries to zoom in on the other people to see if he can figure out anything about them or maybe where they are. He has no idea _why_ he’s so interested in that. It’s not like it matters to him where they are. Didn’t they say that they have friends all over the country?

There’s a tight ugly feeling in his chest. It feels too much like _jealousy_ for his own liking. What does it matter that staying with him probably meant nothing to the Winchesters. His couch was just another couch for them to surf, undoubtedly.

It’s a nice picture, but Castiel doesn’t bother answering it. He puts his phone away and gestures for his aunt to pour him another shot. It burns down his throat again, but he doubts that it’s the reason why his stomach is suddenly unsettled.

*

Castiel wakes up to a sharp kick in the shin. He groans and flops his arm out, hoping to hit at least some part of Anna to express how much he hates when she doesn’t keep her damn limbs on her side of the bed. It’s a king sized bed! There should be no crossing the neutral territory in the middle. And yet, there’s another kick that makes him grimace into his pillow.

The third arm flop attempt catches Anna right in the face. She flails awake with a sound that Castiel can really only define as a _squawk_. Instead of kicking him this time, she shoves his arm away with a smack.

“Y’kicked me.” Castiel groans and pushes his face further into the pillow. He was too drunk last night to remember to close the blinds and now the room is _too bright_. His whole head is throbbing and why couldn’t he have a useful mutation like Dean’s healing powers? Hangovers suck and he’s going to remember this moment whenever he considers drinking in excess again.

Anna makes a distinctly unhappy noise and withdraws to her side of the bed – and then keeps on going. She tosses her blanket over top of him, squishing his wings since they’re already under _his_ blanket. Castiel grumbles and groans because it’s just irritating enough that he won’t be able to get to sleep like this. With some effort, and a lot of squirming, he manages to kick off both his blanket and hers without bending or losing any feathers.

The next problem that presents itself is that without _his_ blanket, he feels too cold to be comfortable. Regrettably, Castiel has to push himself up onto his hands and squint his way to separating their blankets so he can cover up properly again. Since he’s up at the moment, he also glances at the clock. To his surprise, it’s almost one o’clock in the afternoon. Unfortunately for his day, he’s _just_ that side of unhappy that he doesn’t care about the time and he also has no intention of getting out of bed.

Aunt Amara might have cleaned up her act _a lot_ to single handedly raise Anna, but she can still party _far_ better than either of them. She kept both Anna and Castiel up until well past four o’clock in the morning intermittently dancing in the living room, singing in the kitchen, or getting _really intense_ at what board, card, or dice games they started. Castiel isn’t sure that they actually finished any of the games. The night became mostly a blur for him not long after midnight.

He tosses Anna’s blanket back to her side of the bed and wraps his own around his shoulders, careful of his feathers. His teeth feel fuzzy and his mouth tastes disgusting. Everything hurts and Castiel sits on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. What he wouldn’t do for a nice cool glass of water right now. Maybe he could convince Anna to bring him one? Where did she even go?

The answer to that question comes in the tinkling sound of liquid hitting liquid. Castiel glances up briefly before dropping his head back into his hands. “Anna. Close th’damn door.” Because of _course_ she went to the washroom after getting up.

Anna is currently mimicking his position, though hers is on the toilet with her panties around her ankles. Thankfully the vanity is hiding the majority of her body from this angle. Her red hair appears to be defying gravity in places, and Castiel probably doesn’t look much better. She mumbles something unintelligible, and he doesn’t press for her to clarify.

Castiel doesn’t look up again until he’s heard the toilet flush and the sink run. Only then does he let the blanket fall again so he can haul himself out of bed. They bump elbows and grumble at each other as Anna leaves the bathroom while drying her hands on her shirt and he tries to stumble into the blessed darkness of the bathroom where he can get rid of the building uncomfortable pressure in his belly.

“An’ put some _pants_ on.” He shoves at her shoulder and she shoves back.

With the door slid shut between them, Castiel can finally open his eyes fully without having to feel like the light is stabbing him in the eyeball. He can hear Anna digging through one of the drawers of the dresser in his closet, likely looking for a pair of pajama pants or sweatpants that she can steal. God forbid that she go to the effort of finding her own pants in the luggage she has in the living room.

Since it’s so dark and he has zero desire to turn on the light, Castiel has to feel his way to the toilet. For the sake of his floors, he sits instead of trying to take aim because that would be a very poor decision and he really just doesn’t have it in him to live life on the edge like that. He even ends up washing his hands and brushing his teeth in the dark, because why the hell not? If he wanted to, Castiel could probably go through his whole morning routine with his eyes closed.

Halfway through brushing his teeth, he notices that there’s a flashing light on the vanity. Even though his brain feels like it’s been pulled apart and then sewn back together incorrectly, he’s pretty sure that there shouldn’t be anything _flashing_ in here. Patting along the rim of the sink, he eventually comes into contact with a phone. The big question is, does it belong to him, or does it belong to Anna?

Castiel nearly blinds himself by pressing the power button along the side. The screen lights up and he whines at the _pain_ that lances through his head. It takes him almost a minute to adjust to the light and realize that he’s looking at his own lock screen. Apparently he was so out of it this morning that he forgot to plug his phone in. The battery is less than twenty percent right now, and there are several missed messages.

All of them are from Dean.

** _R u drinking 2nite?_ **

** _If ur drinking 2nite, im going 2 b SO disappointed because u didnt drink once while we were there & thats just not fair man_ **

** _Well… except 4 that time @ the graveyard_ **

** _But that doesnt count_ **

** _Maybe it does count?_ **

** _If ur drinking 2nite u’d better drink water! Don’t want a hangover!_ **

Castiel stares at the messages with his toothbrush between his teeth and toothpaste foaming in the corners of his mouth. It takes an excessively long amount of time for the words on the screen to make any actual sense to him. And then it takes just as long for him to find an appropriate emoji response. He sends the green sick faced emoji, and the upset face with squinted eyes.

An answer comes before he can even start brushing his teeth again. Does Dean _live_ on his phone?

** _OMG UR HUNGOVER!_ **

** _Im so mad im missing this…_ **

** _Take sum painkillers drink sum water get some sleep. Chill 4 the day!_ **

** _Pls send me ur grumpy face… u have the BEST grumpy face!_ **

Castiel sighs loudly through his nose and uses his foot to slide the door open enough to let some light in. Anna isn’t in the bed, so she must have gone off to do something. He doesn’t care what it is as long as she does it _quietly_. It’s bad enough that he has to deal with light. If he had to deal with _noise_ too, his head might actually explode.

He takes a quick selfie of his squinty eyes and his grimace around his toothbrush. It turns out _horrible_, of course. His hair is a rat’s nest at best, and the bags under his eyes are impressive. But it’s the best that he’s going to get and he sends it off without another thought.

The response he gets is a string of laughing emojis, each of them with tears in their eyes. And then Dean sends a gif of someone howling with laughter and smacking at a table. It actually brings a bit of a smile to Castiel’s lips. But the only acceptable answer to Dean’s messages is a gif of someone giving both middle fingers.

** _Holy shit_ **

** _Grump u is my fav u_ **

Castiel rolls his eyes and puts his phone down so he can finally finish his teeth. If he leaves his toothbrush in for too long with all the toothpaste goop on his tongue, he’ll start to gag and he can already feel that urge coming on.

Once he’s finished, he dry swallows a couple Tylenol to hopefully help with his headache. He takes his phone with him when he leaves the bathroom, but only so he can plug it in where it belongs on his nightstand. From there, it’s a desperate search for his slippers before he gives up and slowly trudges his way to the kitchen so he can fill a water bottle.

Everything is bright throughout the house and Castiel hisses quietly. The bedroom and the bathroom wasn’t enough for him to adjust. It should have been, had he opened his eyes enough for it, but he was stubborn and didn’t. Now he’s near blind because he’s an idiot.

Aunt Amara is in the living room, sitting on the couch and watching TV. She drank more than Castiel did and she doesn’t even have a hair out of place. She gives him a finger-wiggling wave and a smug smile. This would have been slightly more tolerable if she was suffering like he is. It’s moments like this that he thinks she must be a mutant in _some_ way. How else could she get through all of last night without wanting to _die _come morning?

Castiel glares at her before heading into the kitchen. That’s where he finds Anna, hunched over the counter and staring at the coffee pot. He takes pity on her and pushes the start button, since it doesn’t function by pure hungover petulance.

She groans loudly when it dawns on her that she hadn’t even started the damn thing. “Oh _hell_.”

He hums and finds his water bottle in the fridge. Bless whoever filled it and left it in there – whether it be past him or his aunt. Whatever the case, it’s cold and he drains half of it right there in front of the fridge before refilling it. He could have coffee too, now that a pot is brewing, but he really would rather just go back to bed again.

Anna is still staring at the coffee pot as he heads back to the bedroom. His phone isn’t blinking when he returns, but he still checks it after closing the blinds and the curtains; turning his room into a blissfully dark cave. Dean hasn’t sent anything more, but Castiel sends him a few sleeping emojis. He would probably appreciate knowing that he’s going to get some sleep.

After a few more mouthfuls of water, he pulls the blanket back up over his wings and shoulders. It takes some wiggling to find a comfortable position on his belly, but he groans happily when he finds it. Castiel snuggles into his pillow and he’s fast asleep again within minutes.

*

** _Thursday – January 18th, 2018_ **

His phone vibrates hard enough on his desk that Castiel not only feels it through his keyboard, but he can even hear it over the recording he’s listening to through his earphones. He takes his foot off the pedal to stop the recording from playing and takes a sip of his afternoon coffee. Whoever texted him can wait until he’s restocked on life giving caffeine. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets him through eight hours of sitting on his ass.

Unsurprisingly, the message waiting for him is from Dean. Their conversations since New Year’s Day have increased to the point that they’re sending messages between each other almost daily. Mostly Dean just likes to send pictures of interesting things that he sees on the road, or he’ll complain about how Castiel’s couch was more comfortable than some of the motel beds that he sleeps on.

Once, he even received a picture of Dean and Sam holding their guns in a _Charlie’s Angel_ type pose. It was captioned with ‘_On the hunt!’ _and a wolf emoji. It was amusing enough that Castiel saved the picture to his phone, and then promptly went back through all their conversations to save every picture – even the one from New Year’s Eve that _still_ gives him a confusing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The rest of their conversations have been fun and Castiel has enjoyed having someone to talk to. He always talks to Anna, but this is different. She’s family and this is – this is a _friend_. It’s a different kind of relationship to the friendship he has with her and he’s happy that he toughed it through the rough patch that was the beginning with the Winchesters.

Castiel opens the waiting message and ends up having to read it _three times_ before he believes the words on the screen.

** _Hey Cas! Theres a bounty available near Wichita & Sammy n me booked it & we gun b there in a few hours… Should b done the hunt in a few days_ **

** _Reason im letting u no is… Well, since we gun b in the area kinda thought we could swing by Lawerence afterwards? Pop in & say hi 2 mom & all that u no_ **

Dean is dancing around what he’s _really_ trying to ask. Castiel can read between the lines well enough to know. He’s tempted to see if Dean will eventually ask outright, but he’s too excited to wait. And what if Dean ends up changing his mind about stopping in? It’s better that he does answer right away. He already messed up once and made the Winchesters leave earlier than they meant to because they had a fight, and he doesn’t want to do that again.

** _I suppose you can stay here again._ **   
_Sent 2:32pm_

He gets several smiling happy faces in response to that. It’s still a few minutes before realization actually strikes and Castiel’s heart flips in his chest before crawling right up into his throat.

They’re coming back.

Dean and Sam are _coming back_ and Castiel is going to have to decide if he wants to show them his wings or not.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Thursday – January 18th, 2018_ **

“_You’re being a pussy_.”

Castiel actually gasps and pulls the phone away to frown at it before putting it back to his ear. “Watch your _language_.”

Anna’s eye roll is almost audible in her voice. “_You’re only allowed to enact that rule when I’m at your place. I’m not, so I can swear as much as I damn well please._” She even has the gall to _laugh_.

To be fair, he doesn’t actually have a no swearing rule, personally. The ‘_no foul language in the house_’ law was put into effect by his parents and he’s just carried it over. Except for the Winchesters. Castiel never tried to stop them from swearing, but that was mostly his nerves getting in the way from telling them about the rule.

It was difficult for Aunt Amara at first, but she’s managed to corral herself appropriately over the years. Anna doesn’t usually swear either, but when she does it always catches Castiel off guard. Take right now, for example. Never, in his life, has he ever been called a _pussy_.

There’s only one way to put this to rest. “I’ll tell your mother.”

She stops laughing immediately. “_You wouldn’t **dare**_.”

“Try me.”

Anna grumbles for a few moments. “_Fine, whatever. But don’t think you’re going to be allowed to change the topic like this._” She huffs loudly and her voice takes a more gentle tone. “_The whole point is that it’s not as big a deal as you’re making it. You said they basically told you that they know what your mutation is, right? Well, there you go. They know, they don’t care, so just show them._”

Castiel worries at his bottom lip; the fingers of his free hand drumming a staccato rhythm against the desktop. “But I’ve never –”

“_I **know** you’ve never showed anyone before._” She cuts him off, her firm tone leaving no room for argument. “_But you like Dean and Sam, don’t you?_”

He _does_, but there are so many doubts. “What if it’s just a case of Stockholm Syndrome?” It feels silly to even voice it, but it _is_ a legitimate worry. “They basically moved in with me for a month and it’s not like I had much of a choice in spending time with them.” Or getting to know them.

The laugh he gets in response is almost insulting. Castiel pulls the phone away to frown at it again. As understanding as she is, Anna isn’t riddled with anxiety like him. She can’t really put herself in his position and get _why_ this is all so difficult for him.

Instead of putting the phone to his ear again, he turns speakerphone on and puts it down on his desk. Anna is in the midst of ranting about how _important_ it is that he has friends and that he needs to keep up his relationship with them. Castiel rolls his eyes, because this isn’t the first time that he’s heard this from her. She was very adamant that he contact them long before Dean reached out to him during the holidays, and gave him her _disappointed face_ every time he said that he hadn’t.

Castiel was transcribing a recording when she called and he minimizes those programs to open up the file he has to edit. This sci-fi novel was assigned to him a few weeks ago and he’s enjoying the story so far. The writing isn’t even half bad. He’s definitely going to have to read this through properly once it hits the shelves.

Anna catches on to what he’s doing after a few paragraphs of editing – with only a few minor tweaks being needed. She clears her throat loudly. “_I know you’re not listening to me._”

Castiel hums and continues skimming. “Have you installed those cameras in my house that you keep threatening me with?”

“_I can hear the clicking of your stupid keyboard, you asshole._”

“Well, you were being boring.” Even though she can’t see him, Castiel still makes a face at the phone. He does, however, give her the courtesy of saving and closing the document.

“_No, **you’re** boring_.”

That’s just factually incorrect and now Castiel has actual proof of it in the form of text messages. “Dean doesn’t think so. He enjoys talking to me.”

“_Ah-**hah**! Thank you for proving my point._” She sounds unbearably smug and he briefly entertains the idea of hanging up on her. “_You **like them**. And don’t think I’ve forgotten all the whining you did about how uncomfortable it was to bind the whole time they were there. Just show them your wings and get it over with. Think of how comfortable you’ll be for this next visit!_”

While she does have a point, Castiel is loathe to admit it. He’s only worn his binder a handful of times since the Winchesters left, and he hated every minute of it. Maybe he would be more relaxed if the truth was finally out there? Once they see his wings, he’ll be able to actually _enjoy_ their visit.

Despite all that, a tight ball of worry still sits heavy in his chest. He hasn’t shown his wings to _anyone_ since they grew in. Anna and Aunt Amara don’t count because they’re family. They never saw his wings until they were full grown, and that was after they also moved to Lawrence. Unlike Castiel, however, they both think his wings are beautiful. In fact, Anna has even admitted to being jealous of them. She _wishes_ she had a mutation like his.

Castiel is the opposite. He wishes he had one like hers – or like Sam’s or Dean’s. If he had a mutation that _wasn’t_ physical, he would have so much more freedom. Even if he was registered, it probably wouldn’t be so bad. Anna seems to be getting by fine. It’s the mutations with physical changes that really set them apart. People would look at him and crinkle their noses in disgust the same way he does whenever he looks in a mirror.

He _hates_ his wings.

And what if Dean and Sam don’t like them either? There’s just so much that could go _wrong_ with showing them his wings. It leaves him nauseated.

“I’ll –” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll think about it.”

“_Just think like Shia LeBeouf and Nike._”

Oh God. Castiel drops his face into his hands. “Just do it?”

“_Damn right_!” She pauses and groans. “_Crap. I’m getting another call. I probably have to go make a delivery now. Before I go, just **show them**. I think you’re severely underestimating how accepting they are. Out of everyone you think would judge you for your wings, those two are the least likely to think badly of you._”

He rests his cheek against his fist and looks at his phone. “Go do your delivery. I’ll talk to you later.”

“_Trust me on this. Having friends is a good thing._” Anna makes kissing noises into the phone. “_Bye!_”

After she hangs up, Castiel stares at the phone until the screen turns off on its own. This isn’t something that he wants to think about right now because it will only serve to distract him from his work when he _really _needs to concentrate on what he’s doing. He’ll definitely be thinking about it later today, and tomorrow, and right up until the Winchesters arrive again.

There will be plenty of time to worry himself into an early grave about it.

* * *

** _Tuesday – January 23rd, 2018_ **

It’s been ten minutes since Sam texted to say that they were just about to leave _Lawrence_. Of course they had to first stop at _Walmart_ to pick up supplies, because it’s not a Winchester visit without enough food to feed an entire country.

Now they’re on their way _here_ and Castiel is about to have a mental breakdown.

He’s sitting on the recliner with his head between his knees as he counts every deep breath. It’s not helping as much as it used to and he still feels like he’s going to _pass out_ at any moment. His nerves are running high and there’s nothing he can really do about that. It’s not like he takes anxiety medication. That would require seeing a doctor getting a prescription and that’s just – _really not helping right now_.

Despite his nerves, Castiel did take the time to actually groom his wings this morning. He hasn’t done that in an absurdly long time because he can’t touch the oil glands without grimacing. And if he didn’t already hate his wings enough, he had to wake up _early _to take care of them. Granted, he did barely get any sleep last night. He was too excited (nervous?) to see the Winchesters again, and he had stayed up rather late power cleaning the entire place so that it would be ready for today.

Dean had texted him last night when they finished the hunt. It was just a quick message to let him know that they would reach _Lawrence_ sometime today and he should expect them in the afternoon. He’s been watching the clock like a _hawk_ all morning, unable to even sit down and focus on his work. If he’s not able to get to work later on, then he’ll just take the whole day off and make up the hours over the weekend or something.

His stomach rumbles and Castiel shushes it before returning to his counting. The messages he got from Dean while they were at _Walmart_ insisted that he not eat lunch because he would be making it when they get here. It’s about twenty minutes past noon and Castiel might have also skipped breakfast. He just wasn’t sure that he would be able to keep anything down in light of the _reveal_ looming in the very near future.

Castiel rocks to his feet and goes to check his wings in the mirrored closet doors of his bedroom again. They look so _dull_ despite having oiled them just a few hours ago. Maybe if he did that more often they wouldn’t look so bad? But his stomach turns and he feels like throwing up every time he has to reach back under the feathers at the base of the joint of his wings and squeeze the little walnut sized gland there to release the oils.

But he toughed it out and did it this morning so that they’ll be as nice as they can be for Dean and Sam. He even trimmed them too so the clipped ends weren’t so ragged looking. His molt season isn’t until the spring, so he has another few months before he hates his wings even more than usual. That’s when they get _itchy_ and he sheds feathers _everywhere_. The feathers will grow back longer and then he has to go through and clip them all over again.

He looks pale and sickly in his reflection and Castiel slaps at his cheeks a few times to try and bring colour back to his face. Thinking about the molt always gets him riled up and he needs to think about something else _now_. The molt only serves to remind him of how _different_ he is. Now he’s about to show that difference to Dean and Sam. And combining that with his usual nerves about how they’re actually _coming back_ is almost too much for him to bear.

It’s been nearly two whole months since he last saw the Winchesters. What if he’s just romanticizing the memories? Maybe it wasn’t as good and he’s actually going to hate it? Or they’re going to hate being here and want to leave sooner. Castiel isn’t the greatest host and he knows it. Even Anna and Aunt Amara usually take over when they’re here.

God, what if this next visit _is_ worse? What if it’s because of his wings? Or maybe the Winchesters won’t be nice like they were the first time. It could have all been a ruse to trick him into getting him do something and – And he is _dangerously_ close to hyperventilating.

Castiel heads to the kitchen next and downs the biggest glass of water that he can pour. But he does it _slowly_, taking his time to focus on every swallow. It’s not much, but it’s enough of a distraction for him to _not_ want to text them and call the whole thing off.

By the time the Impala comes crunching up the driveway, Castiel is pacing the length of the living room. His heart is in his throat and he still feels sick. It’s not too late for him to go put on his housecoat, but – No! He promised Anna that he would do this. He doesn’t want to spend another two or three weeks wearing a binder and his housecoat all over the house. If he could let two strangers into his home and his life, then he can damn well show them his wings!

That said, he’s still practically vibrating with repressed energy.

Even though the Winchesters know that he’s expecting them, they still ring the doorbell. That’s nice of them, and it’s likely because Sam’s empathy antenna could probably pick up on how nervous he is from the main road. It gives him one last chance to take some deep breaths before actually having to face them again.

He forces his breathing to remain even as he steps up to the window. The curtains are sheer enough that he can see outside but it’s hard to see inside. Castiel just wants to confirm that it really is the Impala and he’s not about to be confronted with someone he wasn’t expecting.

Surprisingly, seeing that sleek black car sitting in the same spot that Dean parked for most of November actually calms him a little bit. Sam is standing at the back of it with the trunk popped open and he’s taking two duffle bags out. Dean must be the one at the door then, probably carrying all the groceries.

If he was any kind of a host, Castiel would go to the door and help him carry them to the kitchen. Instead, he goes to stand next to the couch and leans his head around the wall that separates the living room from the foyer stairwell. Dean is peeking through the window with both hands cupped around his face so he can see against the glare. He grins brightly and waves when he sees Castiel.

This it it. Castiel takes another deep breath before raising his voice. “Come in!” He even gestures for Dean to open the door.

By the time Dean actually opens the door, Castiel has ducked back into the living room. He can still hear him clear as a bell when Dean calls out into the house. “Hey, Cas! We’re back!”

It might just be his imagination, but Dean sounds really excited. That makes his already rapid pulse kick up a few more notches. Is he happy to be back? Is he happy to see him again? Castiel certainly is, though he’s not sure that’s going to come across when he’s on the verge of throwing up. His anxiety just won’t quit, but it’s too late to try and hide his wings. His only option is to grab the blanket off the couch to cover them and he’ll look like an idiot when Dean rounds the corner.

But he doesn’t. Accompanied with a symphony of rustling plastic bags, Dean comes up the stairs and takes the groceries straight into the kitchen without even glancing into the living room. “I’m making _Mexican_ for lunch! TexMex rice and quesadillas. How does that sound?”

Castiel swallows thickly and licks his lips. “Sounds great.” And yet his voice still cracks.

While Dean is busy putting things away, and Castiel is being rude by not helping, Sam comes in. After a few moments, he comes up the stairs and rounds the corner into the living room. The moment he does, he comes to a sudden stop with his mouth frozen open in greeting. Castiel resists the urge to hug himself, but his wings do twitch and start curling forward over his shoulders. Sam watches the movement with wide eyes.

Though it’s only actually a few seconds, it feels like forever before Sam shakes himself out. He fixes Castiel with a soft, understanding smile. “Hi, Cas.”

Is it weird that he wants to cry? Instead, Castiel bites his lip and gives a stilted wave. He doesn’t trust his voice again.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean calls from the kitchen shortly following the slam of the fridge door. “Is there anything you _don’t_ like in your quesadillas? I know you don’t like onions, so I’ll –”

At that point, Dean comes out of the kitchen through the dining room entrance. He freezes mid-step and cuts himself off with a weird huff of air, like he choked on an inhale. If he wasn’t so distracted by his reaction, Castiel would be touched by how Dean remembered that he doesn’t like onions.

Dean’s jaw snaps shut and he takes a heavy breath through his nose. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before making that same weird huff-choke sound again. His gaze is firmly fixed on Castiel’s wings and it’s so _intense_. It makes him want to cover up all the more. This translates to his wings folding as flat against his back as they can get. The longer Dean stares, the more Castiel wants to hide.

Sam, on the other hand, has stopped staring. He has one duffle bag over his shoulder and the other hanging from his hand. That one he drops on the couch, which Castiel already made up with the sheets and has the blanket and pillows stacked carefully on the chair by the window. Briefly he spares a passing thought; wondering if they already decided on who will get the bed this time and who will be sleeping on the couch.

Castiel has already given up hope on whether or not he looks as nervous as he feels. He licks his lips again and gives Dean the same wave. “Hello, Dean. Sam.” He still sounds like he’s about to faint and he clears his throat. “How was your hunt?”

Rather than answering the question, Dean just steps forward slowly. He _still_ hasn’t looked away from Castiel’s wings. “Can I touch ‘em?”

Of all the questions they could have asked, he didn’t expect that. Castiel’s wings spread a little in surprise before immediately folding right back up. Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure if he could stop them from trying to look smaller than they really are.

Why would Dean want to _touch_ them?

With a sigh, Sam reaches out and smacks Dean in the shoulder, effectively drawing his attention _away_ from Castiel’s wings. “What did I say about _asking_ like that?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Dean holds his hands up in innocence and takes a step back. “I just –” He shrugs and gestures helplessly at Castiel. “I didn’t think you’d ever actually _show_ us.”

“You said you knew.” Castiel shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. He sounds about as uncomfortable as he feels. “I didn’t think there was any reason to continue hiding them. And I _really_ don’t want to wear my binder again every day for a month.”

Dean’s shoulders droop slightly and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I guess that was our fault, huh?” A sheepish smile spreads on his lips. “On the bright side, we’re probably not going to be staying _that_ long again.”

Although he probably meant that to be comforting, Castiel is just disappointed. It’s a heavy weight in his chest and all he can do is nod numbly at the announcement. “I wouldn’t kick you out if you did. You can stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam bobs his head in a nod. “We really appreciate that.” He pats the bag hanging from his shoulder. “Well, I’m going to dump Dean’s stuff in the bedroom, and we actually have some laundry to do. Is it okay if I throw in a load?”

“Of course.”

He nods and heads off down the hall, leaving Castiel and Dean alone again. Dean turns after him, but doesn’t move to follow. “Thanks, Sammy. I’ll – uh –” He looks back at Castiel and tracks the shift of his wings. “I’ll go get lunch started.” That said, it’s still a few seconds before he actually starts backing up the way he came. “You – I mean, I guess you’re going to go get back to work, right?”

Castiel rubs his arms slightly and looks away. “I haven’t started yet today. I couldn’t focus enough.” He shrugs and shifts on his feet. “Depending on how I feel after lunch, I’ll start later or I might just end up taking the day off.”

“Oh, okay.” Dean nods. “That’s – uh – that’s good.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Do you want to come help me cook lunch?”

“If I do –” He uncrosses his arms just to fuss with the sleeves of his shirt. “If I do, can you promise not to – Can you _not_ look at me so much?” It feels so weird to ask that, but having so much attention focused on him is making him feel light headed – and not in a good way.

Dean immediately looks away and the back of his neck flushes slightly. “Sorry about that. I guess you’re not really used to people looking at ‘em, huh?”

Castiel nods, and then realizes that Dean isn’t looking at him. He clears his throat before actually speaking. “Yes. Even Anna and Aunt Amara don’t pointedly look at them a lot.”

Hopefully time is the key here. He’s okay with Anna and his aunt because he’s had so much time to get used to having his wings out around them. It might just take a while before he’s as comfortable with the Winchesters as he is with them.

He follows Dean into the kitchen to find four bulging bags on the counter. An empty bag is lying next to them, presumably the one that held whatever it was that Dean put away in the fridge. Nonetheless, Castiel is constantly surprised by how much food they bring all the time.

“Did you buy out the _whole_ grocery store?”

Dean shrugs and starts taking things out of the bags for Castiel to take. “I wouldn’t have to buy so much if _someone_ would ever have something other than _instant_ food in his house.”

Castiel shrugs and begins putting things away in the pantry. “I don’t like cooking for just myself.”

“I get you.” Dean hums and sets aside the ingredients that he needs for lunch. “It’s always more fun to cook for other people. I actually _miss_ cooking when Sammy and I are on the road. We always eat out while we’re hunting.”

He pulls pans out of the drawer under the oven and turns the heat on to start pre-heating it, moving around the kitchen like it’s his own. “The motel rooms with kitchenettes cost more per night than ordering in pizza or Chinese and having leftovers for a day or two. I mean, we do eat sandwiches and snacks a lot too. We keep the fixings in those little bar fridges every room has, just so we’re not eating out for _every_ meal.”

While Dean talks, Castiel nods along. He hums at appropriate intervals and nods at Sam when he checks in on them before taking the first load of laundry downstairs. The Winchesters have been here for all of five minutes and already his home is louder than it has been since New Year’s Day. This time around, it doesn’t feel even half as weird as it did the first time they were here. If anything, it feels – and this is something that Castiel will take to his _grave_ – it feels _right_.

Once everything is put away, it turns out that Dean has far more fillings for the quesadillas than what Castiel is used to. Whenever Anna picks one up for him and brings it over with her own meal, he usually only gets chicken, cheese, peppers, and tomatoes. Dean might as well be making omelettes again for the number of vegetables and proteins he has lined up on the counter next to the stove.

Garlic is already sizzling in oil in a pot on the stove and the scent of it has Castiel’s stomach rumbling. His jaw twinges almost painfully and he can’t resist stealing a wedge of a green pepper while Dean is in the processing of chopping them. It’s been too long since he had Dean’s cooking and it’s almost surprising how much he’s looking forward to having lunch now. It will be nice to sit down with the Winchesters again and catch up on everything they didn’t talk about through their text messages.

Already he’s starting to feel less on edge about having his wings out. Having Dean talk so much is really helping take his mind off of them. And, as he asked, Dean hasn’t even once looked at his wings since they entered the kitchen.

Maybe he _can_ get through this after all.

* * *

Even though he _had_ calmed down by the time lunch was finished, Castiel had still felt a need for a little personal time. After cleaning up, he decided to do a half day of work. There were recordings that needed to be transcribed and he didn’t feel right leaving them for tomorrow. But, because he doesn’t have to hide his wings anymore, he actually left the door open the whole time he was working. That way, the Winchesters could have full access to his library if they wanted to grab something.

He transcribed as much as he could be lunch and a late dinner. And then he took the rest of the night off so he could hang out with the Winchesters in the living room. They were both so tired from travelling and hunting that they decided to relax with a movie for the evening and settled on watching the first of the _Blade_ trilogy.

Now the movie is in the final ten minutes and that is _wonderful_. Castiel is absolutely _exhausted_ and he’s been day dreaming about his bed for near an hour now.

As soon as the movie is over, he stands up to stretch his arms above his head and his wings out behind him. It still feels weird to have them out in front of the Winchesters. Even though Dean _tries_ not to look at them, Castiel has actually caught him sneaking glances whenever he thinks he’s not looking. Sam, on the other hand, apparently hasn’t given them a second thought since he first saw them. It’s just Dean who keeps _staring_ and it makes Castiel’s stomach swoop every time he notices.

“I think I’ll be going to bed now.” It’s earlier than he would normally turn in, but he didn’t really sleep last night and it’s been an emotional day for him, so he feels justified in his decision.

Sam muffles a yawn behind his hand. He looks like he’s falling asleep where he’s slumped down in the chair by the window, his long legs stretched out over the ottoman. “’Night. Sleep well.”

Dean grunts as he pushes himself up from where he’s been taking up the whole couch. Castiel gives him a wave as he starts down the hall. He’s halfway to his bedroom when he realizes that he’s not alone and stops, turning around to find that Dean is following him. Not only that, but his face is held in a vaguely unreadable but surprisingly intense expression.

The way he looks actually makes Castiel’s heart stutter slightly in his chest.

“Are you going to bed too?”

To his understanding, Dean and Sam didn’t do rock-paper-scissors to decide where they’re sleeping this time around. Since Sam had the bedroom for the entire time they were here back in November, it’s only fair that Dean gets it for this visit.

“Nope.” Dean shakes his head and continues past Castiel, and then right into his bedroom – _not_ the guest room – because of course he left the door unlocked.

Castiel’s anxiety slips right back up because _why_? That’s his bedroom! What business could Dean possible have in there? Especially since Castiel quite specifically said that he was about to go to bed!

He steps into the doorway to find Dean standing at the end of the bed, staring at himself in the mirrors. Dean looks about as happy as Castiel feels.

He clears his throat. “Dean?”

“I made a promise.” Dean’s voice is tight and he sounds uncomfortable, but his jaw tightens in a distinctly _determined_ way. “You showed me yours, so I’m –” He touches one of the scars on his face, fingers lingering. “I’m going to show you mine.”

Dean looks away from the mirror, expression still horribly blank. “I don’t like Sammy seeing them, so get your ass in here and shut the door.”

Oh! Castiel quickly does as asked, before realizing that he’s now _alone_ with someone in his bedroom. Though he knows the _actual_ situation, the implications alone are enough to make a flush start climbing his neck. Whether it’s from embarrassment, nerves, or something more… He isn’t sure.

Should he also lock the door? He briefly considers it before deciding that he really shouldn’t. He might not even be able to do it if he tried. While Castiel considers himself to be somewhat friends with the Winchesters, he isn’t really sure that he could stand to be locked with either of them in a small room with no exit. That said, he stays standing by the door, just in case he feels the need for more space.

And then he forgets all about that the moment Dean starts stripping.

The first thing he removes is his flannel over-shirt; tossing it on the bed behind him. He always wears the sleeves of it rolled up, but under it is a long sleeve, high collared shirt that he never rolls up. It always seemed a little weird to Castiel. The long sleeved shirt is removed next, but he’s still wearing a white tank top as an undershirt.

Castiel inhales sharply and bites his tongue to keep from saying anything. He suddenly understands _why_ Dean wears a long-sleeved shirt under his flannel. His arms are absolutely _covered_ in scars. Some appear to be burns, others look like long scratches, and some look like the skin was split by an impact. Some of the scars are white while others are an angry red.

There are crisscrossing lines of white and red running up and down the insides of both of Dean’s forearms, and Castiel knows immediately what they are. While he has never have seen them in person before (to his knowledge), he has certainly read enough books, seen enough movies, and edited enough edgy young adult novels to know self-harm when he sees it. And Dean’s scars go from the heel of his palm almost all the way to his elbow on _both_ arms.

Dean rubs a hand over them before he closes his eyes. Slowly, he lets out a deep breath and bunches his fingers in his undershirt where it’s tucked into his pants. He tugs it out, but hesitates in actually pulling it off. Castiel swallows thickly and takes a small step forward. He should stop this. Clearly Dean is uncomfortable and he shouldn’t have to push himself like this just because Castiel showed his wings.

But before he can say anything, Dean yanks the shirt over his head in one quick move and throws it on the bed with the rest of his clothing. He turns to face Castiel fully and opens his eyes; arms spread wide. “There you go.”

His registry tattoo is just below his left collarbone and almost half of it is covered by a big scar that cuts _much_ deeper than Castiel originally thought it did. Since most of the tattoo is still visible, _The Registry_ must not have deemed it necessary for him to have it redone elsewhere. The scar is sunken; carving across his chest from the middle of his right pectoral up and over his left shoulder. It looks like it must have hurt, and the wound itself must have been horrible if it still looks like that _after_ Dean’s healing powers have had a go at it.

Dean’s right shoulder is in better shape, but it looks like it had a small hole punched in it, leaving a star like scarring around it. There’s another one similar to it on his left side; just a little higher on his waist than his belly button. Everywhere else are the smaller scars – white and red lines skipping across his skin here and there. Or patches of mottled skin twisted up like he was burned.

After a few moments, Dean turns around to show his back. The star-punch in his right shoulder has a matching wound on his back and Castiel realizes with a jolt that it’s from a _bullet_. His big scar over his left shoulder curves slightly across his spine to end just shy of the bullet scar. More scarring litters his back, but most of the outside of his right arm, from shoulder to wrist, is covered in the twisted scarring of a horrible burn. It’s matched by patches on his side that dip down under the waistband of his jeans.

Castiel knew that Dean had scars, but these – these look so _painful_. They’re so much more violent than he thought they would be. His heart is in his throat and he can hardly swallow around it as he catalogues each one in his memory.

He blinks away the sharp sting behind his eyes. How much pain must Dean have gone through to have all of these? And are there more on his legs? Do the scars still hurt him now?

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Castiel takes another step forward and reaches out. His fingertips just barely brush the start of the deep scar on his shoulder before Dean steps out of reach and turns around again. He raises an eyebrow and smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “If I don’t get to touch, neither do you.” At that, he nods at Castiel’s wings.

Now that is absolutely something that he is not prepared to even think _about_. As such, Castiel ignores the comment entirely and asks the question resting heavy on his tongue. “How did they happen?”

Dean shrugs and idly scratches at a jagged scar that follows the line of his ribs on his right side. “They’ve each got their own. Some are just from me being a dumbass during hunts against other mutants, and some are from Sam getting hurt. Some are from people who really need my help.”

Castiel steps closer and takes Dean’s arm in hand. He rubs his thumbs over the scars along his wrist. “And what about these?”

The question makes Dean’s shoulders tense. He balls his hand into a fist, but he doesn’t pull away. “Like I said… People that really needed my help. If you want the gritty details, you’re going to have to ask Sam. He knows them better than I do.” He looks away, glancing at his pile of shirts on the bed. “I don’t remember much after – Well, y’know. I just – I couldn’t leave ‘em _dying_ like that.”

In all honesty, Castiel isn’t sure if he wants the details. But if morbid curiosity wins out, then at least he knows who to ask. And he also understands. If he had Dean’s powers, how could he resist helping someone in need? Especially when that someone happened to be a _child_.

“Do they hurt?” He continues cataloguing the scars by touch; following them up Dean’s arm and slowly making his way across his chest.

Despite what he said before, Dean doesn’t stop him from tracing each of them. He even willingly turns when Castiel follows the one over his shoulder and across his back. “Not really. I don’t know if it’s my healing at work or if it’s another aspect of my mutation, but I don’t feel pain the same way I did before I presented. It’s all dulled. The only problem I have with my scars is that they sometimes can get kinda stiff feeling and it’s weird to move.”

When he turns around again, there’s a wry smile on his lips. “I have an _insane_ skin care routine that keeps them soft and supple. If you ever need moisturizers, hit me up. I’ve got brands you’ve probably never even heard of coming out the wazo-whoa!”

Dean grabs his hands to stop Castiel from further exploration. He had made it across his back, around his side, and again to the front where he was tracing the scars across his stomach. Castiel doesn’t realize how close his fingers were getting to the waistband of Dean’s jeans until they’re being pulled away. “Watch where you’re touching, Cas.”

“I’m sorry!” When the realization strikes, Castiel steps back sharply and yanks his hands out of Dean’s grip. His face feels like it’s on _fire_. “I didn’t – I shouldn’t have – You even _said _–”

“It’s fine, Cas.” Dean shrugs and picks up his undershirt again. He pulls it on and tucks it back into his jeans. “Are you satisfied now?”

Yes, but also no. Castiel has so many _questions_. “What are their stories?”

Dean pauses with only his arms in his long sleeve shirt. He glances at him before pulling it over his head. “All of them?”

“All of them.”

There’s a few moments where they stare at each other, eyes locked. Dean searches for something in his expression, though what Castiel doesn’t know. Eventually, he softens with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Maybe another time.” He picks up his over-shirt. “Maybe I’ll tell you when you manage to get my pants off.”

The wink that follows that entirely unnecessary comment is equally unnecessary and Castiel rolls his eyes. Now that Dean is dressed again, he must be feeling more comfortable. He’s falling back into flirting quite easily. Either it’s a base component of his personality, or Dean uses flirting like a defense mechanism. Honestly, it could be both. It’s not like Castiel actually knows Dean _that_ well.

Once his flannel is back on, Dean seems to relax quite a bit more. The tension eases out of his shoulders and his smile comes much easier. “There. Doesn’t it feel better now that we all know what our mutations are?”

Castiel shrugs and tucks his wings in closer. He’s still on the fence about whether or not revealing his wings to them was a good thing or not. So far it’s been fine, but tomorrow is another day.

Moving his wings might have been a mistake. Even just a twitch of them draws Dean’s attention. He takes a few steps to get behind him, eyeing them up closely. “Wait a sec.” He’s frowning when Castiel looks over his shoulder. “Cas, why don’t they look right?”

Thankfully, Dean doesn’t reach out to touch them. Instead, he touches Castiel’s arm gently. “Will you spread ‘em for me? Please?”

Oh_ God_. Castiel feels like his face is going to melt off. Isn’t it enough that he’s showed his wings? Why does he have to spread them too? He takes a few steps forward to put space between them, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor because he _refuses _to look at Dean while he does this.

Stepping away must make it look like he’s not going to do it. Dean makes a quiet, disappointed noise. “It’s okay, Cas. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can see them some other time when you’re –”

He cuts off suddenly as Castiel spreads his wings out. With the feathers clipped as they are, their reach isn’t nearly as long as it should be. When his primaries are fully grown in after his molt, they can go the whole length of the room – stretching from wall to wall. If he holds them properly and not folded flat against his shoulders and back, then they even touch the ground.

A shiver runs down his spine at the first gentle ghost of a touch along the edge of one wing. It’s not _actually_ a touch, but it’s more than he’s ever had before. Castiel hated his wings so much as a child that he didn’t even like letting his parents touch them, let alone Anna and Aunt Amara. He still hates his wings and the automatic response is to twitch them out of reach and turn so that Dean can’t just _touch_ them again.

“Sorry.” To his credit, Dean _does_ look apologetic. “I just – Why do they look so short?”

“Because I clip them.” Castiel shrugs and crosses his arms; wings folding flat again. “They’re easier to hide under my coat that way, and the long feathers get in the way. They’re annoying.” And he’s not going to mention his molting, because it’s weird enough to have wings in the first place.

Dean’s jaw drops and he spreads his arms. “But – but – flying!” Thankfully, he doesn’t start flapping to help with the visual. “You can’t fly when you clip your wings like that!”

“That’s a given.” He frowns and looks away. “I’ve never tried to fly before.”

“You’ve never – Oh my _God_, Cas!” Dean throws both hands in the air before gesturing at Castiel. “You’ve got _wings_ and you’ve never tried to _fly_. Holy shit, that’s such a _waste_.”

That’s just _rude_ and Castiel fixes him with a glare. “Not everything with wings flies, Dean.” He can think of a number of flightless birds and will _happily_ list them, if needed. “Would _you_ fly if you could?”

“No way.” He shakes his head. “But that’s because I hate planes and heights. And anyway, I’m not the one with _wings_ here. You’re _choosing _not to fly. You’re –” Dean stops and a thoughtful kind of light enters his eyes. “Oh. You haven’t tried to fly because you’re unregistered and don’t want to get caught. Is that it?”

He shrugs and really wishes they could change the subject before they end up arguing again. “That’s part of the reason, yes.”

“Well, what’s the other part?” Dean tilts his head, trying to catch his eye again.

“I hate them.” Castiel hunches his shoulders and his wings fold in tight against his back. “You said I have a _gift_, but they’re not. They’re a _curse_.” And he said as much the last time they were here. Hopefully this time, Dean isn’t going to leave in the middle of the night because they disagreed on this particular topic.

For a moment, Dean’s mouth twists into a frustrated frown. He tenses, like he’s preparing to argue, and then he stops. His shoulders drop and he sighs. Now he just looks _sad_ and Castiel hates that look on his face. It’s better when Dean is smiling – when he’s laughing and talking his ear off about whatever catches his fancy.

“Cas –”

“I’d like to get ready for bed now.” Castiel cuts him off with a shake of his head. He nods towards the door, hoping Dean won’t fight him on this.

Dean presses his lips into a thin line, again looking like he wants to argue. Instead, he nods. “Okay, fine.” He opens the door and steps out into the hall, but he stops there to turn and point at him. “But mark my words! This _isn’t_ over.”

With a sigh, Castiel steps over to shut the door. “Good _night_, Dean.”

He leans his forehead against the door once it’s closed. His wings curve forward around his shoulders in another form a self-hug. It takes another few moments before Dean’s footsteps start up; carrying him away towards the living room. That interaction left Castiel with a lot to think about, but the foremost thought is the most troubling one.

How can Dean have so many scars and still think that being a mutant is a gift?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Wednesday – January 24th, 2018_ **

Why is someone knocking on his window?

Castiel sits up in bed and knuckles at his eyes. He squints at the clock. It’s not even seven o’clock yet and that is _unacceptable_. Even Dean has never actually woken him up this early – at least not on _purpose_. In fact, Castiel is fairly certain that he’s probably still sleeping. But that doesn’t change that someone is still _knocking _with the sharp sound of knuckles on glass. It’s quiet and repetitive and he just might punch someone in the face for this.

He kneels on his bed and yanks the curtains open. When he pulls the string to draw up the blinds, there’s nothing on the other side of the window. And yet, he can still hear the knocking. Where could – Oh. It takes far too long for him to realize that it’s coming from the _bathroom_ window. That’s actually even _weirder_.

With a loud sigh, he hauls himself to his feet and stumbles into the bathroom. Castiel repeats the motions of uncovering the window, half hoping it’s some dumb bird that he can shoo away. Of course it’s not. It’s _Sam_ hanging over the railing on the deck so he can reach the window and peek through it. As soon as he sees Castiel, he lights up with a smile and puts a finger to his lips. What in the world does he have to be _quiet_ about? Who would hear them?

Sam gestures behind himself and mouths one word. It takes a few tries before Castiel figures out that he’s saying ‘_kitchen_’. He wants to meet him in the kitchen? At this time of the morning? Ugh. If he wasn’t such a pushover, Castiel would refuse. Instead, he just nods. Sam gives him a thumbs up and disappears.

Grumbling to himself and muttering quiet curses about this time of the day not being an acceptable time to be awake, he shuffles about to get his slippers and housecoat on. Sam is in his pajamas and rubbing his arms while waiting by the coffee machine for it to brew. When Castiel enters the room, he excitedly gestures for him to cross the kitchen with him to the far side of the kitchen by the door out onto the deck.

Once they’re in the corner, he leans in and drops his voice into a quiet whisper. “I’m sorry to wake you up that way, but I wasn’t sure if you would answer your phone if I texted you.”

Castiel covers his mouth to muffle a yawn. “What’s wrong?” Because someone had better be dying or some other emergency had better be brewing. Otherwise, heads will roll for waking him up this early.

“Do you know what today is?”

Sam’s lucky that the knife block is on the other side of the room from them. Knowing what day it is does not constitute an emergency. Castiel frowns and squints at nothing in particular over Sam’s shoulder while he thinks. “It’s… Wednesday?”

“Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I thought Dean might have told you since he tried really hard to make sure that we would be _here_ to celebrate it, but –” Sam takes a deep breath. “It’s Dean’s _birthday_ today.”

And just like that, Castiel is wide awake. He straightens his shoulders and takes a slow, steady breath before letting it out loudly. “_Why_ didn’t you tell me about this _yesterday_? Or you could have texted me about it a week ago! I could have arranged with Anna to get presents from us, or I could have arranged a cake, or –”

“Pie.” Sam interrupts. “Dean likes _pie_.”

Right, yes, of course. How could he have forgotten that? Castiel feels _horrible_ about all of this now. Dean is one of his first friends and this is the first birthday that they’ve come across since he met them. And then there’s what Sam just said too. Dean wanted to be here to celebrate with _him_? That makes Castiel’s insides tingle in a weirdly pleasant way. It’s sweet, and – and not what he should be focusing on right now.

“Do _you_ have anything planned for him?” Because if Sam dropped the ball on this too, then Castiel might scream. Dean may have been the one who chose to leave without saying anything the last time they were here, but that bridge has been mended now and he _deserves_ an amazing birthday. That’s something that Castiel wants to be able to give him.

Sam has the decency to look guilty, at least. He ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair again. “Honestly? No. He’s never really been one for big parties, so I’ve never planned anything for him.” Something must show on Castiel’s face or maybe his displeasure is coming across loud and clear, because Sam straightens up and waves his hands between them. “But! I do know that he likes to sleep in on his birthday. That might supersede his need to impress you with food.”

Castiel’s housecoat rustles as his wings flex beneath it. That throws him off more than he cares to admit. “_Impress_ me with food?” Is that what he’s doing? Here he thought that Dean was just doing it as part of his ‘_rent_’ for staying here.

He shakes his head, putting that thought aside. That’s not what he’s supposed to be focusing on right now. He has a birthday to plan. “What if _we_ surprise_ him_ with breakfast in bed? And I can call Anna to see if she can buy us a ca– Sorry, a _pie_.” Something else occurs to him and he claps his hands together once. “Oh! I have decorations! There’s a whole box in the basement with streamers, hats, and candles.” Among other things, probably.

Most of the birthday decorations were purchased after his parents died. Aunt Amara showed up for his birthday that year with bags of new things, all in an effort to help cheer Castiel up for his first birthday without his parents. Between her and Anna, they worked their hardest to make the day awesome enough that he didn’t have the time to even think about his parents. Despite crying a lot, it was definitely better than being alone, and it worked. Now they’re used three times a year now for Castiel in September, Anna in October, and Aunt Amara in December.

Sam brightens at the mention of decorations. He turns on his heel and goes to the pantry to start pulling out pancake mix, chocolate chips, and syrup. “You go get the decorations. I’ll start on making breakfast.”

Castiel hurries off, hoping that he remembers exactly _where_ the box is. Anna is very organized and she went through and labeled almost everything in the basement that she was allowed to do. He abandons his housecoat over the arm of the couch so it doesn’t get in the way. Sure, he’ll be cold for a little bit, but he’ll warm up quickly while rushing around to decorate and get things ready before Dean wakes up.

It takes no time at all to find the birthday bin on the shelves in the basement. It was used just last month, of course, and Anna was very good at labeling it. Castiel brings it back upstairs with him and digs through the kitchen drawers until he finds tape. Sam is busy mixing the pancake batter and they nod at each other before Castiel ducks out to start decorating. He puts banners, streamers, and balloons _everywhere_; moving a chair quietly from place to place so he can tape the ends to the ceiling. He sets out party hats on the table along with a party horn and popper each.

“How old is he turning?” Castiel brings the box of candles into the kitchen. “I know he’s in his twenties, but _which_ twenty?”

“Twenty-eight.” Sam doesn’t even glance up from where he’s checking the bacon he put in the oven.

From the tin of candles, Castiel picks out a two and an eight. He sets them aside for the pie later on. Now that everything is as decorated as he can get it, he packs up the excess in the bin and tucks it away in the corner of the living room for when they take it all down.

While he doesn’t have a specific tray that can be used to serve breakfast in bed, Castiel does have a decorative one used on the coffee table. It usually holds a box of facial tissues and the remotes. He grabs that and sets it with a plate and utensils. Sam stacks pancakes and bacon on the plate while Castiel pours a glass of chocolate milk and a mug of coffee to add to the tray.

He didn’t have chocolate milk in the fridge yesterday and it makes his feathers shiver slightly to realize they had it in the groceries they brought yesterday. Did they notice how much he liked it the last time they were here? Or was it just because _they_ like it too? Whatever the case, he pours himself a small glass and savors it while Sam arranges the plate to his satisfaction with a pat couple pats of butter and a large drizzling of syrup.

Satisfied, Sam steps back. “Do you have hats?”

“I put them on the dining table for later.”

“We should put ours on now.” He ducks into the dining room and returns with two hats, a party popper, and one of the horns.

Castiel stands still and lets him put the hat on him. Thankfully, Sam isn’t cruel enough to snap the elastic string against his chin. He has the feeling that Dean would absolutely do that, just to see how Castiel would react. Sam keeps the popper and the horn for himself, and hands the tray off for him to carry.

They head down the hall together, Castiel walking carefully so he doesn’t upset the drinks on the tray. The guest room door is closed, but Sam eases it open slowly. The curtains aren’t drawn, so it’s not pitch-black in the room like how his own bedroom was this morning. It’s nearly eight o’clock now and the sun is above the horizon but not above the trees that surround the property, brightening the room with a dim, warm light.

Dean is sprawled out on his stomach with his face smushed into the pillow. One arm dangles off the side of the bed in full defiance of any monsters under the bed. Which there are none, because the bed frame goes right to the floor. This used to be Castiel’s bed when he was growing up and he insisted on this kind of frame to make sure that no monster could get under his bed in the first place. He still doesn’t sleep with any limbs poking out over the edge of the mattress anyways.

The blanket is only covering half of Dean’s body and that has Castiel hesitating a few feet within the door. Dean is _shirtless_. Should they wake him while he’s like this? It’s obvious that he doesn’t like having his scars on display. When he looks to Sam for confirmation about what they should do, he simply gestures for Castiel to come forward.

They stand at the edge of the bed and Sam nudges at Dean’s arm a few times. He does it until Dean groans and rolls onto his side, putting his back to them. “Fugg’off, Sammy.”

Sam frowns briefly before flashing Castiel a grin. He winks and puts the party horn to his lips. Those things are _loud_ and annoying, and it does the trick. After one large warbling honk, Dean flails and twists upright with a loud curse.

He turns to give them both a sleepy glare. “What the _fuck_!”

“Happy birthday!” Sam shouts and pops the party popper, showering Dean with confetti.

That doesn’t get as much of a reaction out of him as Castiel expected. Instead, he just blinks at them both and blows confetti out of his face. Dean’s eyes sluggishly move from looking between the both of them to squinting at the tray of food. He briefly lingers on Castiel; both his wings and his bare chest. Before he can even start to feel uncomfortable about that, Dean looks away to, again, blink at the both of them.

“What?”

“Breakfast in bed.” Castiel holds the tray out to bring attention to it again. “Happy birthday.”

Whatever sleep fog Dean might have had before clears up rather quickly then. He sits up properly and scoots up the bed until his back is against the headboard. After adjusting the blanket over his lap, he pats it before holding out his hands to making grabbing motions. “Gimme.”

Castiel steps forward to put the tray across his lap. “Be careful, there are no legs to stabilize it.”

“Hold on.” Sam pulls his phone out of seemingly nowhere and waves it at them. “I want to take a picture! Here, put this on.” He plucks a third hat off his head, having just stacked the extra on top of his own. Dean scowls as Sam puts the hat on him – and this time he _does_ snap the string. “Now smile.”

“Let me put a damn shirt on first, at least.”

Right, of course. Castiel quickly crosses to the light switch so he can turn them on and see better. There’s a hoodie hanging from the hook on the back of the closet door. He grabs that and passes it to Dean while Sam holds the tray out of the way for him to get dressed. Once he’s dressed and the tray is back in his lap, Dean smiles cheekily for a picture.

“I want another one, but this time –” Dean pats the spot next to him. “I want Cas in it.”

Castiel very rarely has his picture taken. It’s usually Anna taking selfies with him or taking pictures of their little family gatherings. His biggest fear is that someone is going to see the picture and somehow just _know_ that he’s an _unregistered_.

“Who will see this?” He takes a small step back towards the door; ready to flee if they try and take a picture of him without his permission.

Dean frowns, eyebrows coming together. “Us? It’s not like I’m going to send it to anyone else, Cas.” He shares a look with Sam. “If you don’t want us to, we won’t even show it to Bobby.”

“Can I get a copy of it too?”

“Of course.” Sam wiggles his phone with a smile. “I’ll send it to you right after I take it.”

He takes another moment to mull it over, before nodding. “Okay. Just let _me_ go put a shirt on first.”

Castiel quickly ducks into his bedroom on the other side of the hall. He has several t-shirts that have been modified to accommodate his wings and he grabs one at random. It’s yellow with two bees lined up above the words ‘or not’ with two more bees lined up below it. Anna had bought it for him once upon a time, citing that the _two bee or not two bee_ play on words was too hilarious not to get.

The collar and arms of the shirt are still intact and Castiel puts that piece on first. A portion of the back of the shirt has been removed where his wings connect to his back and a lot of the down around it. The lower back of it has been cut and a zipper sewn in. Castiel struggles slightly with zipping it up, fingers slipping while trying to get the two pieces together. Once it’s connected, he adjusts the shoulders and sleeves slightly before checking himself in the mirror.

Satisfied, he returns to the guest room.

Dean snorts a little laugh after looking his shirt over. “That’s cute.”

Castiel sticks his tongue out at him briefly before sitting on the edge of the bed. He keeps his wings angled out of the way. There’s a decent amount of space between them, but Dean closes it by leaning over until their shoulders bump together. Snap snaps a quick picture with his phone before he turns and takes a selfie with the two of them in the background.

In his opinion, that’s not good enough. Castiel stands up and holds his hand out. “Let me take a picture of the two of you.”

“Thanks!” Sam hands his phone over and they switch spots. After one proper picture and a few silly ones, Castiel hands the phone back. Dean turns his full attention to his food and digs into it with relish.

After a few bites, he hums to himself. “You made it, right Sam?”

“Sure did. Cas decorated.” Sam is more focused on his phone and flicking through the pictures they took. “How did you know?”

“They taste like your pancakes.” Dean shrugs and takes a bite out of a piece of bacon. “And I’ve never had yours so I don’t know how they would taste.”

Castiel tilts his head, regarding the quickly disappearing pile of pancakes in Dean’s lap. “They would probably taste the same. He just used the same mix that I use.”

Dean shakes his head and uses his fork to cut out another piece of pancake. “Nope, they would still taste different.” He holds up the piece on his fork with his hand cupped underneath it. “Taste it and see. I guarantee that it’ll be _totally _different from mine, and I cook with the same mix too.”

“I –” He hesitates, eyeing the fork. This is just – it’s a little awkward of a way to do it, isn’t it? Sharing a fork? Despite that, he still leans over and carefully takes the piece from the fork, being careful not to let it drop while trying not to touch the fork itself with teeth, lips, or tongue.

The chocolate chip pieces do change the taste slightly, but overall it still tastes like pancake. He hums while chewing, and Dean watches him closely. Somehow, Dean is right. It _does_ taste different.

After a few moments, Dean spears another piece and holds it up again. “Have another.”

“I shouldn’t.” Castiel shakes his head and steps back again. “They’re your birthday pancakes.”

“Yeah, and I can do what I want with them.” Dean wiggles his eyebrows and repeats the motion with the fork, though not enough to shake the triangle of pancake from it.

“Feeding me is _not_ a part of the birthday breakfast in bed.” He crosses his arms and takes another step back. “Sam made those for _you_, so _you_ should be the one to eat them.”

They stare each other down, Sam quietly standing off to the side without interjecting. Eventually, Dean sighs and slumps back. He’s actually _pouting_ as he continues eating his pancakes. Castiel rolls his eyes at the dramatics, subdued as they may be.

It takes another few bites of his breakfast before Dean raises an eyebrow and gestures between the two of them with his fork. “Are you guys just going to stand around and watch me eat?”

“Uh, pretty much?” Sam shrugs and tucks his phone away again.

“Dude!” Dean frowns and drops his fork. “Go get your own breakfast!”

Sam runs a hand over the back of his neck and glances at Castiel. “Actually, I – uh – I didn’t make enough for us. I could make more after you’re done.”

With a huff, Dean moves the tray out of his lap and onto the side table. He kicks the blankets off his legs and gets up. Castiel shares a brief look with Sam, wondering if they should do anything to stop him. Apparently Sam doesn’t think so, because he steps out of the way as Dean gathers the tray again and all but storms out of the room; herding Castiel out into the hall in the process.

Dean essentially forces them back into the kitchen, since they’re not going to continue hanging out in the guest room without him. He ends up eating the rest of his breakfast at the counter while Sam makes more pancakes. There was plenty of bacon leftover and Castiel has to guard it from Dean’s sneaky fingers. Birthday or not, he can have seconds _after_ everyone has had a share.

Since all three of them are essentially bottomless pits when it comes to eating, Dean absolutely does get a second plate of pancakes and bacon once Sam and Castiel have their own syrupy towers. They settle as a group to eat at the dining table. Dean praises the decorations and Castiel tries very hard not to preen under the compliments. His wings probably give him away as his feathers definitely fluff – something that he knows doesn’t go unnoticed by Dean. Thankfully, he doesn’t draw attention to it.

After they clean up and separate to go to the bathroom, shower, or brush up, Castiel takes a moment to contact Anna. He sits on his bed and asks her to pick up some apple pies and to buy (and wrap) presents for him. He hasn’t the first clue what in the world to get for Dean, but Anna has always been really good at buying presents. Hopefully she’ll be able to pick out something good. There are some things that he thinks Dean might like that don’t entirely suck, so he sends them that list along, just in case she needs some ideas to work off of.

In the end, he sums up his messages with something along the lines of telling her to pick something that she thinks Dean would like. That’s all that matters.

Since Dean likes his birthday to be a quiet affair, the day ends up being spent playing video games in the living room. Castiel does play a bit, but it is technically a work day for him and he has some recordings that need to be transcribed. He takes a few hours out of the afternoon to take care of those, and it’s a nice reprieve from the hubbub of visitors.

It’s been almost two whole months since the Winchesters first left. While there were some times in there where Anna and Aunt Amara were around for an extended period, it’s not quite the same as having people _staying_ here. And Dean and Sam are entirely different from family. But it’s still nice. Castiel is happy to have them here again and he might have wrapped up his transcribing quicker than he normally would just so he can return to spending time with them.

Sometime in the late afternoon, almost dinner time, Anna arrives in her usual style. Because of the slush and snow and mud outside, she doesn’t just blink right into the living room as she usually would do during the summer months. Instead, she kicks at the front door until someone answers to let her in. Tonight, it’s Sam.

“Take these pizzas!”

“Are you sure these are enough?”

“It’s what the birthday boy ordered.” Anna huffs and she must kick off her shoes. Two thumps later and the two of them are coming up the stairs again.

Sam is carrying four extra-large pizzas, while Anna has a shopping bag swinging from one arm and a gift bag from the other. She crosses over to where Dean has claimed the recliner as his birthday throne and she throws a handful of shredded paper in his face.

“Happy birthday!”

Dean blows the bits of paper off his face. “Oh, thanks.” After a moment, he snorts a laugh and stands up to pull her into a hug. It ends up being a ruse as he tries to swipe the present from here. “What did you bring me?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Anna shoves him back and turns to hand the bag off to Castiel.

“Is it _your_ birthday too?” He narrows his eyes at Castiel.

Castiel shrugs and puts the present aside. “I’m sure you’re already well aware that mine is in September.” He sighs and rolls his eyes when Dean looks away with a cough. “Is there anything about me that you _weren’t_ able to dig up with your sneaky bounty hunter ways?”

“Oh yeah, loads.” Dean takes two of the pizzas from Sam and leads the way into the kitchen. “I couldn’t find anything that was actually important.”

Anna raises an eyebrow and shares a look with Castiel. “And what do you consider _important_?”

Dean shrugs and lines up the pizzas on the counter. “You know. The likes, dislikes, sexuality, hobbies. All that kind of stuff.” He starts opening the boxes to inspect the toppings. “All I got was what info the government has on you; your birthday, blood type, tax info, so on and so forth.”

“I see.” Castiel slaps his hand away before Dean can start picking at the toppings. Birthday boy or not, that’s just _rude_. “And _when_ did you look up all that information about me, hm?”

“Uh – I guess when we were looking up your address using your parents’ names?” He shakes his hand out and shoots Castiel a dirty look. It clears up in an instant. “Aw shit, I forgot my phone in the living room. I’ll be right back.”

He’s out of sight for a whole three seconds before realization strikes. Castiel sighs heavily and stomps out of the kitchen, leaving Anna and Sam to plate their pizzas on their own. “Dean Winchester, don’t you _dare _touch that present!”

Sure enough, Dean has the bag in hand. “I wasn’t doing nothing.”

“_Liar_.” Castiel pulls it from his hands. The only place it will apparently be safe until after dinner and pie is in his bedroom.

Unfortunately, Dean follows hot on his heels, wheedling with a whine. “C’mon, Cas! What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing of importance.” He hides it in his closet before ushering Dean back out into the hall and locking the door behind him. “You leave it alone.”

Sam and Anna are both standing in the doorway to the kitchen, pizza in hand. Sam takes a bite of his, cheek bulging while he speaks with his mouth full. “I should warn you that Dean is a fairly decent pickpocket if you’re not careful.”

Dean gasps and lays a hand across his chest. “Et tu, Sammy?”

Shakespearean reference aside, Castiel drops the key into his pocket and turns a narrow eyed glare on Dean. “If you touch this key, you’re going to be sleeping in your _car_ tonight.”

“Fine, fine!” He holds his hands up in defeat.

“Pizza’s getting cold.” Anna jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll claim the whole meat lovers if you don’t get in there quick enough.”

“Don’t you _dare_!”

Dean rushes forward, ducking around the both of them to get into the kitchen. Anna winks and Castiel just barely refrains from rolling his eyes at the whole thing. He had almost forgotten how those two bickered when the Winchesters were here last.

Hopefully it won’t be as annoying this time around.

* * *

Another round of pictures needs to be taken before Dean will even consider blowing out the candles on his birthday pie. He insists on taking one with Castiel, one with Anna, and one with Sam. And then they even attempt (successfully!) a group photo by propping a phone on one of the shelves on the dining room wall and setting a timer on it. Sam even manages to get an action shot while Dean blows out the candles.

“Have you had enough of pictures? Can we finally have some pie?” Anna whines as Dean takes the phone so he can make sure the pictures are satisfactory.

“Well _duh_.” He flashes her a grin and shoves the plates in her direction. “Get serving.”

She rolls her eyes, but dutifully starts plucking the candles from the pie. Castiel takes it from her so he can cut it in the kitchen. He doesn’t trust anyone, not even himself, to safely cut the pie without going through the thin tin pie plate and damaging his dining table. Once it’s cut, he brings it back to plate. Serving is fine, even if it can be a little messy.

It’s a good thing that Anna brought _two_ apple pies, because Dean ends up half of one before Castiel has even managed to work through his single slice. Unlike _some_ people, he likes to savour his food and he doesn’t just gulp it down without tasting it. But he does like listening to the conversations, and participating when he has something to add.

“Can we play a game now?” Dean stacks his plate on Sam’s empty plate when he’s done.

“You’re the birthday boy.” Castiel waves his fork in the direction of the stairs. “If you want to play a game, we’re not going to say no. Just go and pick what you want to play.”

Dean grins excitedly and jumps up. He’s barely disappeared down the stairs before Sam stands up. “I’m going to go grab his gift right now.”

“I can get the one from your bedroom.” Anna stands up too.

Which leaves Castiel to clean up their dishes and wipe down the table. “It’s in the closet.”

She nods and blinks away and then back a handful of seconds later with the present in hand. Oh good. Then _she_ can wipe the table down while he rinses the dishes and puts what little of the pie still remains away. Anna frowns when he hands her a damp cloth, but she doesn’t argue. She’s known him too long for that, and Aunt Amara raised her to always help out.

They’re all three seated back at the table by the time Dean returns with _Mousetrap_ in hand. There are a few other bags stacked on top that he drops onto the recliner in the living room. _Mousetrap_ is the only one that he brings to the table. He’s wide grin drops into a gasp when he sees the two presents sitting neatly in front of the place where he had been sitting during dinner.

“You sneaky bastards!” He rushes over and drops _Mousetrap_ into Sam’s lap. Instead of sitting down, Dean remains standing and hovers his hands over the presents. “Which one should I open first?”

“Mine, obviously.” Anna grabs the bag that she had brought. From it, she pulls out a small wrapped gift and she hands it to Dean.

“Thanks!” Dean sits down to read the label on it. “To Dean, from Anna. To help you with your sense of taste issues.” He raises an eyebrow at that and gives her a suspicious look. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean, huh?”

Anna shrugs and props her chin in her hands, elbows on the table. The picture of innocence. Castiel knows better than to trust that face. Dean might not have learned that yet. “Why don’t you open it and see for yourself?”

Without a care for trying to preserve the wrapping paper, Dean rips it off and tosses it to the floor next to him. It’s a book and he snorts a laugh after reading the title. “You think you’re funny stuff, don’t you?”

“I’m _hilarious_.”

Castiel leans over so he can read the title. He’s sitting next to Dean, so he can tell that it’s a cookbook, but what _kind_ of cookbook is it? There’s a picture of a lemon meringue pie on the cover. The title says _American Classics_ across the top and there’s a paragraph of small writing beneath it. Dean passes it to him so he can read it.

“Would you make twenty-eight lemon meringue pies to find the best version? We did. Here are more than three hundred exhaustively tested recipes for America’s favourite dishes.” Castiel reads it out and Anna’s smile grows wider with every word. “By the editors of Cook’s Illustrated Magazine.”

“I thought it might help you with your terrible tastes.” Anna shrugs, clearly pleased with herself.

Dean taps the book. “Pick something out for tomorrow, Cas. I’ll make it for dinner.” He nods at Anna too. “Of course you’re invited. Bring your mom too, if she’s free.”

Anna sits up, smiling brightly. “It’s a date.”

For some reason, that makes Dean falter slightly. He hesitates before reaching for the other wrapped gift sitting on the table. “Uh, right.” He clears his throat and ducks his head to read the tag on this present. “From Sammy, huh?”

Sam leans forward slightly. “I hope you like it.”

“What could this be?” Dean shakes the box and turns his head, listening for any rattling.

“Just open it.” Sam sighs. “Oh, and can’t forget this.” He also slides an envelope across the table. “It’s from Bobby and Pam.”

“Geeze, those saps!” Dean drops Sam’s present to open the envelope first. It’s just a simple generic birthday card, nothing special about it, but there is a cheque inside. Dean immediately tucks the cheque away in his pocket before Castiel can even get a glimpse of how much it might be – not that it’s any of his business.

The inside of the card just has two signatures. There aren’t even any personal notes in it. Castiel frowns and glances at Dean. “Why are they saps?”

“Because they would have had to give Sam this card when we were home for Christmas and New Year’s Eve.” Dean shrugs and sets the card aside. “They thought _ahead_ and that’s stupidly sweet of them.”

“You have a home?” Anna crosses his arms on the table, head tilted as she looks back and forth between Dean and Sam. “I thought you guys were nomads or something?”

“Our _work_ takes us everyone.” Sam mimics her position as he leans on the table, watching Dean as he starts to unwrap his next gift. “But we actually do have an apartment in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It’s above the garage on the school’s property. Well, technically, on _Bobby’s_ property.”

Anna’s eyebrows draw together as she frowns. “What school?”

Ah, is that something Castiel forgot to mention to her? He would explain, but both Dean and Sam are more suited to it. And he would rather not accidentally say something wrong. It’s best to leave them to tell her about it.

“Bobby owns a bounty hunter training school.” Dean has removed the paper from Sam’s present, but has yet to open the small box. “His family owned this huge property that was once a scrapyard type mechanical garage thing. When Bobby inherited it, he cleaned the whole place out and sold all the scrap. His house is still on the property, but the rest of it is made up of the training buildings, obstacle course, firing range, the works.”

“Oh.” She sits back slightly, confusion clearing up from her face. “I get it. And your apartment is on the same property?”

“Yeah. He’s got a couple garages and one of them he built a guest apartment over it. We park the Impala in there.” Sam bobs his head in a nod. “And it’s got enough space that Dean can work on her too while we’re there.”

Now Castiel is interested too – even though he’s curious about the presents. “What’s your apartment like? How many bedrooms?”

“It’s a small two bedroom place. But at least we have our own laundry!” Dean reaches across the table and Sam meets him for a high five.

Anna tilts his head again. “But you guys aren’t there often, right?”

“Not really.” Dean looks a little disappointed by that. “But thankfully Bobby doesn’t actually charge us for anything. He says the apartment is technically ours in that we can keep our shit there, but he still uses it as a guest house if he needs it whenever we’re not home.”

With one last shrug, Dean opens the box from Sam. It appears to be full of gift certificates from various chain restaurants. A lot of what Castiel can see is stuff that could be used for the Impala – like car washes, and for filling the gas tank.

Dean grins as he sorts through them. “How long have you been collecting all of these?”

“Since your last birthday, duh.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean blows him a kiss before putting the box aside. “I’m going to put all of those to good use on our next hunt.”

He reaches for the bag next and Castiel shifts nervously in his seat. He has no idea what Anna bought. She told him the ending price and he sent her the money already, but she refused to say _what_ it was that she bought. All she would say is that it’s something that Dean will like.

Castiel’s feathers rustle against his back, wings flexing with anticipation. Unfortunately, the quiet sound of them moving is enough to draw attention to them. Specifically, it’s Dean who notices. He pauses with his hand in the bag and he turns to look at them. As soon as Castiel realizes that he’s being watched, he forces his wings to hold still.

They fold tight against his back and Castiel ducks his head. “Open your gift, Dean.”

But Dean still continues to watch his wings. He nods, satisfied, and only looks away again once Castiel relaxes and his wings rest normally against his back. Anna has her head tilted, mouth tilted in a small confused frown. It’s a bit of a strange looking expression and it transforms into a smile when Castiel looks at her.

Dean opens the bag and pulls out a few plaid over shirts. “Oh damn, these are nice!” He rubs the fabric with his thumb before checking the tags. “And they’re the perfect size too.”

“There’s more.” Anna nods toward the bag. “Isn’t there, Cas?”

“Uh –” He shrugs. “Yes?”

“Oh, is there?” Dean reaches back into the bag and he pulls out a black shirt.

He unfolds it to reveal long sleeves. On the chest is a red lined circle with a line down the vertical center. There are white eye-shaped circles on either half of the circle. Dean looks it over momentarily before he starts _howling_ with laughter. He turns it around to show Sam, and _he_ starts laughing too. Anna sits back with a smug grin, clearly pleased with herself.

Apparently Castiel is missing something here. He frowns and looks between everyone. “What’s so funny about it?”

Dean gulps down air to try and calm down. “You know anything about the Marvel Comics?”

“Not really? I mean, I’ve seen most of the Cinematic Universe, but I never really got into the comics.”

“Well, do you know who _Deadpool_ is?” He turns the shirt so Castiel can see the symbol on the front again. “He had a movie that came out on Valentine’s Day last year and there’s another one coming out next year.”

That sparks his memory and suddenly it all makes sense. “Oh!” And now Castiel feels like an idiot for not recognizing it – especially since he was supposed to have been the one to give the gift. If Dean didn’t figure it out before, he definitely knows that Castiel didn’t buy it himself now.

Dean stands up to shrug out of his current over shirt. “The symbol is like his mask, y’know? And he’s a mercenary that was mutated into having healing powers when he thought he was going to be cured of his cancer. Now he’s just _covered_ in all sorts of scars.”

Castiel’s jaw drops as the full realization hits him. He shoots Anna a disapproving look because he told her about Dean’s scars _in confidence_. If Dean gets mad at him for saying anything about them, he’s going to have _words_ for her. Anna shrugs in answer and tilts her head toward where Dean is undressing down to his undershirt. He pulls the _Deadpool_ shirt on quickly and smooths it out across his chest.

“I love it.” Dean pauses and fiddle with the sleeve of the shirt and how long they are. “Oh, cool! It’s got thumb holes!” He puts his thumbs through them and holds his hands out to admire how they look.

Anna looks back to Castiel, smug smile back in place.

He sighs and shakes his head before turning back to Dean. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls in him for a half hug. It’s so quick a motion that Castiel doesn’t have the chance to stop it before it happens. The hug is over almost right away as Dean stands up, but his hand does drag across his shoulders. Even through his shirt, the touch makes Castiel’s skin tingle.

“And a big thank you to you too, Anna.” Dean goes around the table to give her a hug too. “I know Cas had you do all the legwork.”

She stands up to meet him for the hug. “To be fair, he did bankroll the operation.”

Dean stops to hug Sam too before he collects _Mousetrap_ again. He returns to his spot and drops it on the table. “And now it’s _game time_.” The bright, pleased smile he flashes Castiel leaves him with a swooping feeling in his stomach. “I hope you’re all ready to be schooled _so hard_ by the champion game master right here.”

Castiel and Anna share a quick look. It’s unlike that Dean has played any of the games he brought upstairs as much as they have. They’ve played them more times than they can recall, and Dean is about to get a harsh lesson in reality. There are _strategies_ that both Anna and Castiel have developed over the years, and they will most definitely be putting them into effect.

Birthday boy or not, Dean probably won’t be winning anything tonight.

* * *

Sam moves his Bishop into position and sits back. Castiel frowns down at the travel chessboard set up between them, contemplating his next move. He hums, drumming his fingers against his chin while he thinks.

After being thoroughly schooled at every game he brought up, Dean had sulked through a movie while finishing off any leftover pizza and pie. He essentially put himself into a food coma by the end of the movie and retired to bed. That’s about when Anna decided it was time for her to head home. Neither Castiel nor Sam felt like going to bed yet, despite their earlier morning. They found the travel Chess game in the basement when they were putting away the games Dean had pulled out earlier and they haven’t been playing for very long.

Castiel nudges one of his Pawns forward two spaces. “Dean told me yesterday that if I wanted to know about the scars on his wrists that I should ask you about them.”

“I figured he would.” Sam sighs and narrows his eyes at the chessboard. “They all happen for more or less the same reason, but I could tell you about the first time. Be warned, though, it’s not a great story.”

“I’ll understand if you would rather not talk about it.”

He shakes his head and moves a Pawn next. “It’s fine. Just not really a happy one.” Sam shrugs. “I was still in elementary school, so I don’t really remember all the details. I think it was a year or so after Dean presented? He was eleven, or maybe almost twelve.”

Sam pauses to frown as Castiel uses his Knight to capture the Pawn. “Anyways, I got pulled out of class by someone from the school office. They said mom was on her way to come get me and that my Dad was already on his way to the hospital.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know _why_. “Because of Dean?”

“Mhmm.” He nods and leans forward to examine the chessboard. “The school had called an ambulance because they found Dean passed out in the bathroom with another student. I remember the secretary was white as a ghost and she just kept muttering about there being blood _everywhere_.”

A sinking feeling fills Castiel’s stomach and he swallows against the lump that rises in his throat. He rests his elbows on the table as Sam continues the story. “Mom told me on the drive to the hospital that Dean was bleeding badly and that’s why he was taken away by the hospital. They took the other kid too because he had blood all over his arms and needed to be checked out, even though he wasn’t bleeding.”

“Was he alright?”

Sam shrugs. “Depends on your point of view. He had tried to commit suicide.” He grimaces and sits back, ignoring the game for now. “Dean knew him as the quiet kid in class that got bullied a lot. He told me later that he’d seen the kid getting teased pretty hard earlier and then he wasn’t in class later on. When he went looking for him, he found him bleeding out in the bathroom and had just –”

At that, Sam sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Well, he _says_ he acted on instinct, but I think Dean panicked and didn’t know what else to do. He screamed for help down the hall before using his powers to try and save the kid’s life.”

Castiel’s heart stutters in his chest and his hands curl into fists against his thighs. He remains quiet and nods to encourage Sam to continue.

“I remember being really worried.” Sam’s hand is shaking slightly as he lowers it to rest on the table. “And I cried my eyes out when we got into Dean’s room. He looked so pale in the hospital bed, and his wrists were wrapped up in bandages. The other kid was in another room and the worst he had was some mild blood loss. He would have been dead if Dean hadn’t done what he did, but he almost bled out himself and that –”

The thought of Dean dying – of Castiel never having met him or Sam – makes his blood run cold. It’s hard to believe that there was once a time where he actually disliked the Winchesters and couldn’t wait for them to be out of his life. Now he’s actually disappointed that this visit is going to end eventually. They probably won't be staying for another month, since November was special given the anniversary of their mother’s death. And this visit is –

Is it really just because they happened to be nearby and Dean decided to spend his birthday here? And why _here_? What makes Castiel so special that Dean would want to spend his birthday with someone that he barely knows?

Sam blows out a loud breath, interrupting his thoughts. “And that was just the tip of the iceberg.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow as Sam makes his next move. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that those were the start of Dean’s scars. They were his firsts.” He grimaces and shakes his head. “Dean helps people. It’s his _thing_. Like, imagine me being seven years old and I just broke my leg jumping off the roof of the shed because I was pretending to be Batman.” Strangely, Sam actually smiles at that memory. “Dean put me on the handlebars of his bike and drove me to the hospital that way because the babysitter was too high to drive.”

At Castiel’s shocked expression, Sam waves his hand between them. “We had to take what we could get with babysitters once Dean was registered.”

“That’s still not right.” Castiel frowns and moves his Knight to claim another Pawn.

“Anyway, Dean took me to the hospital.” Sam rests his chin on his fist, eyes on the game. “And then he used his powers on me right there on the steps so that I wouldn’t be in pain anymore. He’s the one who went home in a cast.”

Castiel winces. “That couldn’t have been comfortable.” He shakes his head. “And what about the scar that he has here.” He touches his side, hoping that Sam will know that he’s referring to the gunshot wound he had seen yesterday.

“Civilian.”

That makes sense but Castiel still shakes his head at the explanation. He doesn’t even need to ask when he lays his hand over his left shoulder and presses down.

Sam’s nose wrinkles. “That was a bad one, but he didn’t take that from anyone else. He got it when we were trying to catch a mutant that hadn’t shown up for their re-evaluation. Turns out that their mutation had evolved and they were now able to make – I guess the best way to describe it is…” He waves his hand while trying to find the words. “Air blades? Whatever it was, it sliced through Dean’s shoulder like nothing. If it wasn’t for his accelerated healing, I don’t think he would have survived because it sure was fun to have him almost die _again_ while we stayed overnight at the hospital.”

Castiel feels queasy just thinking about it. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath; counting backwards from ten before returning to the game. “I’m afraid to ask about the burns.”

That makes Sam hesitate while reaching for his next piece. His hand drops to the table and he looks down. “That –” He leans forward to put his elbows on the table and rest his face in his hands. “There was this little girl and – She wasn’t supposed to be there. The bounty was just a bond jumper, but she took her kid with her on a meet-up with her drug dealer.”

When he lifts his head again, Sam has gone pale. “But it wasn’t _one _drug dealer. It was the whole damn gang behind the production. We basically walked in on a meth lab, which is above our paygrade, so we called the cops. As soon as they rolled up, the gang torched the evidence and ran. The kid got caught in the middle. I went in to get her because fire doesn’t affect me, but she was already badly burned by then. I had to take her out the back way so the cops wouldn’t see that only my clothes were burned and I was fine.”

He swallows thickly and runs his hands through his hair. “One of my worst memories is how she was _screaming_ and the way her skin was just – it was _so bad_. Dean took one look at her and just – He took her hand and told her it would all be okay. Said she wouldn’t be hurting anymore.”

Castiel knows exactly where this is going. “He took her pain away.”

Sam nods and sighs heavily through his nose. “He spent a week in the hospital with third degree burns. We’re _still_ paying off that medical debt.” He sits back, suddenly looking far more tired than he was before. “And then there’s all the times that I’ve messed up. Scrapes, cuts, bruises, bumps – you name it and I’ve had it, and Dean takes all of it if I don’t threaten to set him on fire if he tries it. He just can’t stand seeing his baby brother banged up – in _his_ words.”

“That sounds like him.”

Silence follows after that and they make a few moves between them before Sam does something else. He leans over in his chair as far as he can so he can look down the hall. After a few moments, he sits back up again. “There’s more to it.”

“To what?” Castiel tilts his head, eyebrow raised.

“To Dean not liking to see me hurt.” Sam leans forward and drops his voice into a whisper. “He’s _really_ protective of me. Even more so since Dad left.”

Castiel leans forward too. “What do you mean?”

“It’s because I’m –” At that, Sam seems to wilt and he curls in on himself slightly. “_I’m_ the reason that Dad stopped coming home from his hunts.”

Now _that_ he finds hard to believe. But Castiel’s wings still flare slightly in surprise. “You’re – No, that can’t be right.” In fact, he refuses to believe it.

“I’m _positive_ that I’m the reason.” Sam shakes his head. “Even if Dean won’t agree, it’s because Dad hates me. He hates me because I – I –” His voice becomes small – _pained_. “I killed our mom.”

Castiel sits back sharply, the game forgotten. “You – What? _How_?” He’s never heard the story of how their mother died. As far as he knows, it was an accident. If he _really_ wanted to know, Castiel could have tried searching for Mary Winchester online at any time, but he hasn’t. He would rather learn about their history from them instead of from a computer.

Sam doesn’t get a chance to answer him. Before he can say anything, Dean all but stomps into the dining room; his expression dark with fury. “Shut the fuck up, Sammy.”

He flinches and ducks his head as he sits back. “But it’s _true_.”

“No it’s fucking _not_.” Dean slams his hands on the table and Castiel flinches back from it too. “You are _not_ responsible for Mom’s death and you sure as hell don’t go talking about that with strangers!”

Castiel recoils from that like it was a physical blow. Dean doesn’t seem to notice as he glares down at Sam, but Sam certainly notices. He frowns up at him, arms crossed. “Cas isn’t a stranger.”

“That’s not the point here.” Dean waves the comment off before pointing at Sam. “The point is that you were _not_ the reason Mom died and you shouldn’t be going around telling people that you were.”

Clearly this is something that they’ve argued about before, and they fall into it as if Castiel wasn’t even there. It’s fine with him because there’s a curious _ache_ behind his ribs that’s sucking away any desire he has to remain in this room. Dean just called him a _stranger_ after they spent the whole day celebrating his birthday together. A _stranger_ after Castiel showed him his wings and opened his home to them. _Twice_. A stranger when Castiel considered them friends.

His body feels stiff and immobile as he pushes back from the table and stands up. Both Winchesters stop arguing to look at him, but Castiel simply turns and walks away. He doesn’t want to sit there and listen to Dean tell Sam that he’s not enough of a friend for them to talk about anything with him. Apparently he was the only one who thought their friendship had reached the point where they could share the personal things with each other. Things like his _wings_ for instance.

“_Now _look what you did!” Dean’s accusation follows Castiel down the hall to his bedroom.

“What _I_ did?!” Sam snaps back. “You’re the jackass who just called him a _stranger_.”

“You’re the shithead who started telling him about _Mom_.”

Sam groans loud enough for Castiel to hear. “How is that worse than you showing him your scars?”

“Scars are different from _Mom_ and you know it!”

Castiel doesn’t hear the rest of their argument. He closes the door as Sam starts berating Dean about how he needs to apologize. It muffles the words, but it’s still loud enough for him to hear them. He has earphones in the drawer of his bedside table and he digs those out. With the buds in his ears, Castiel mechanically plugs them into his phone and thumbs through to his music app.

After settling on a playlist of upbeat, bouncy tunes, he turns the volume up and lies face down on the bed. To keep his mind off the fight the Winchesters are having, he focuses on counting the beat of the music. With some difficulty, Castiel also tries not to think about the pain in his chest or the pressure behind his eyes that makes his nose sting. He is _not _going to cry about this.

But he does wonder if this means that they’re going to sneak off in the middle of the night again. Either way, he doubts he’s going to have a very restful sleep tonight. There’s a lot to keep him awake now.

* * *

** _Thursday – January 25th, 2018_ **

By the morning, Castiel’s phone is dead. He fell asleep with his earphones in and his ears ache when he jerks awake. The knocking on his door is vaguely muffled by the earphones and he pulls them out, groaning because they absolutely are _not_ meant to stay in for that long. He slept like shit and he probably wouldn’t feel half as bad if he had just stayed up reading all night.

Castiel feels like death as he gets up. He takes a moment to plug his phone in to charge before stumbling to his door. It’s still early, but not nearly as early as when he woke up yesterday. And the knocking at least means that the Winchesters didn’t leave. If it was Anna, she would have just walked in by now.

He opens the door and frowns to find Dean on the other side. It’s too early and he’s not awake enough to deal with Dean and everything he said last night. Castiel shakes his head and moves to shut the door, but Dean steps forward and uses his hand to stop it in place.

“Can we talk? Please?” He holds up a mug of coffee. “I brought you a peace offering.”

The coffee is tempting and Castiel eyes it. “I thought you weren’t allowed to talk to _strangers_.”

Dean winces and he uses his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “I – yeah, okay. That was a really shitty thing to say and I’m _really_ sorry about that.”

“Uh-huh.” Castiel squints at him and takes the coffee, but he doesn’t move out of the way for Dean to come in.

“I’m serious, Cas.” He ducks his head, appearing to be thoroughly cowed. “I just – When Sammy starts talking about _that_, I see red and go off the handle. It wasn’t right of me to say that and I’m _so sorry_. Can I come in and talk to you about all that? _Please_?”

Castiel sips at his coffee for a few moments, debating with himself about whether or not he should. He’s still mad (_hurt_) by what he said last night. Part of him wants to shut the door in Dean’s face and let him stew awhile longer. But what if, in doing that, Dean decides that it’s best that they just leave again? It would be better if they could work things out.

He sighs and steps out of the way. “Fine.”

Dean slips into the room and shuts the door. He crosses over to sit on the edge of the bed, but Castiel doesn’t feel like sitting. Instead he takes another long draught from his coffee and heads over to the closet. It always makes him feel gross to sleep in his day clothes and he needs to change. He’s just groggy enough to not care that Dean is here too.

With one hand he starts undoing the zipper keeping the back of his shirt together. He doesn’t let go of his coffee the whole time that he slowly and methodically goes through the process of removing his altered shirt. By the time he gets it off (without spilling any coffee, thankfully), Dean still hasn’t said anything. Castiel glances over his shoulder to find him staring. Where that would normally make him blush, he’s too irritated this morning to care.

“You wanted to talk, so _talk_.”

Dean visibly swallows and nods, but he doesn’t look away. “Ye-yeah. Okay. Um – So – I – uh –” He stutters quite a bite before shaking himself out and dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have insinuated that you’re a stranger, because you’re _really_ not.”

“Then what am I?” Castiel huffs and makes space between his hanging shirts to put his coffee down on the dresser inside the closet. This frees up his hands to find another of his altered t-shirts in the drawers and he’s able to put it on with a lot less difficulty.

“You're our friend, Cas.” Dean almost whispers the words. “You know that.”

He hums. “Do I?”

Without even thinking about it, Castiel also drops his sweatpants. Dean makes a choked noises behind him, but it quickly gets lost in a cough. He kicks his pants over into the laundry hamper and glances at Dean in the mirror. This time, Dean is very pointedly _not_ looking at him. Castiel narrows his eyes and waits a moment to see if he’s going to do it again. When he doesn’t, he returns to getting dressed with a new pair of pants.

“You _are_ our friend, Cas.” Dean eventually continues talking, but he sounds tense. “I know you’re new to the whole friends thing, and it’ll probably be surprising to hear, but – uh – I’m not that great with friends either, okay? We move around too much to really keep up any kind of relationship with anybody. The only people I usually consider friends are the ones that work at the school because they’re always there when we go home, but even then they’re more like parental figures. I was still a kid when I first met most of them.”

Castiel hums again and rescues his coffee before sliding the closet closed again. He turns to face Dean and continues drinking. When Dean looks at him, he raises his eyebrows. There’s nothing for him to say right now and if Dean wants to get back into his good graces, he had better keep talking.

At least Dean seems to understand this and he sighs. “We know a lot of people around the country, but it’s not like we seem them very often or stay in contact. Maybe we might grab a beer together if we’re in the same area, but it’s not like we’re _friends_.” He shrugs and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s usually just me and Sam, so I’m not always that great with other people.”

“I would agree given what little history you and I have, but you seemed just fine with approaching me that first time.” Castiel drums his fingers on his mug.

“It was Sam who encouraged me to approach you at the graveyard.” Dean shrugs and gives him a sheepish grin. “I can charm just about anyone, but ask me to maintain a proper relationship with them and I’m absolutely shit.”

Now _that_ is something he’s beginning to agree with.

Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and looks away. “I was the one who kinda suggested seeing if we could crash with you when we were trying to figure out where to spend the night. But then Sam agreed with my _joke_ and started looking up your information.” He sighs and leans back on his hands. “Apparently he thought that both you and I could do with a proper friend.”

Castiel moves to sit next to him, his ire softening somewhat.

“The scars –” Dean gestures at his face and sweeps down his body. “They really put people off. So, basically what I’m saying is that I’m not super great at this whole _real_ friend things. I’m gonna make mistakes or run my mouth and say things I don’t mean. I’m gonna be stupid, but it’s not – it’s _never_ going to be because I don’t like you.”

“I _do_ like you.” To his surprise, Dean actually goes a bit pink in the cheeks. “I mean, not – not like _that_. Well, I – _sonofabitch_.” He sits forward quickly to hide his face in his hands. “Feel free to stop me any time here.”

He almost doesn’t want to. It’s a little fun – _cute_ – to see Dean squirm like this. But Castiel is just too damn nice for his own good. “Quite the pair we make. Neither really knowing how to have friends.”

“Great, so we’re _both_ going to be shit at this.”

“Probably.” Castiel shrugs and drains the last of his coffee. “But at least we _are_ friends. Right?”

Dean shoots him an incredulous look. “Well, _yeah_.” He snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “Do we have to have the _let’s be BFFs_ talk? Because, dude, we’re in our twenties and I think we’re kinda past that.”

“Actually, I’m in my _thirties_, thank you.” Castiel wrinkles his nose at saying that. He’s been thirty years old since September and he’s still not used to saying that. “But no, we don’t need _the talk_.”

“Good.” Dean stands up and stretches his arms above his head. “Because I really didn’t want to end up braiding Sam’s hair and painting our nails. He enjoys that too much.” He flashes Castiel a grin before jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “You hungry?”

He holds up his empty mug. “More coffee first.”

“Of course.” Dean offers him a hand to help him to his feet. “C’mon. I already have breakfast on the go. Breakfast quiche is in the oven.” They end up standing particularly close as Dean pulls him up. He visibly swallows again and the grip on Castiel’s hand tightens briefly. “I – uh – I’m glad we’re friends.”

Castiel blinks a few times, suddenly very much aware that Dean has a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His eyes are also a stunning shade of green and if he isn’t careful, he’s going to get caught for staring. Worried that it might seem weird, Castiel ducks his head and looks down to where Dean hasn’t exactly let go of his hand yet.

After a moment, he lifts his head with a small smile. “Me too.”

At that, Dean downright _beams_. He has a very nice smile and Castiel decides right then that he likes it quite a lot. The grip on his hand tightens even more as Dean turns and drags him from the room. He tugs him right back to the dining room where Sam is already working away at his coffee with his laptop sitting before him.

Sam looks up when they come around the corner. He eyes their joined hands and Castiel feels overly aware of every inch of where Dean’s hand is holding his. But Sam only smiles. “Have you two kissed and made up yet?”

Dean drops his hand with a quiet sigh. “Fuck off, Sammy.”

Heat burns across the back of Castiel’s neck and he can feel it in his ears too. His wings shuffle against his back as the tucks his hands under his arms; crossing them over his chest.

If anything, Sam’s smile grows wider. “I only ask because we didn’t finish our game last night, Cas. I want to continue it.”

“After breakfast.” Dean interjects as he turns towards the kitchen. “I should go check on that.”

He ducks away quicker than he normally would, leaving Castiel to fidget in place. Dean took his empty coffee mug with him, and it would probably be best that he go pour it himself. Thankfully, Sam doesn’t say anything as he heads off to do that.

His mug is next to the coffee pot and Dean is crouching in front of the open oven to check on the quiche. Castiel very purposefully doesn’t look at him while he pours himself another cup of coffee. Once it’s tweaked to perfection, he returns to the dining room. Despite what Dean said about continuing the chess game after breakfast, Sam still slides it over between them so they can pick it up again while they’re waiting for their meal.

It’s nice to get back into the swing of things, almost as if last night never happened.

* * *

After a day of working and a hearty dinner, the three of them retire to the living room. It’s almost a tradition for them to watch a movie in the evening. This time, however, Sam takes the recliner before Castiel can. He stretches out on it with a happy groan. Even though that happens to be his favourite spot, Castiel is a gracious host and will begrudgingly allow a guest to have it.

While he could take the chair by the window, it’s not as comfortable because of his wings. Instead, Castiel curls up in one corner of the couch, propped up against the arm-rest. He leans forward just enough that his wings aren’t squished uncomfortably. Dean ends up taking the other side of the couch, but instead of sitting he stretches out across the length of it. He tucks his feet under Castiel’s legs without a word.

Despite the confused look he gives him, Dean seems oblivious. He focuses on finding something on Netflix for them to watch, scrolling through the recommendations. Castiel shifts slightly until he’s comfortable again, and decides not to say anything about it. Maybe Dean’s toes are just cold right now or something, even though his feet feel like they’re radiating heat beneath him.

It doesn’t escape his notice that Dean watches their chosen movie with a small smile on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Saturday – January 27th, 2018_ **

As promised, Dean makes dinner from the recipe book he got for his birthday. After perusing it, Castiel had requested something classic, simple, and delicious – a shepherd’s pie. He can’t remember the last time he had one, and the picture in the book looked _amazing_. Castiel doesn’t doubt that Dean will add his own little flair to make it even _more_ delicious than it could be from just the recipe.

The invitation for Anna and Aunt Amara to join them was, of course, completely serious. The shepherd’s pie has only been in the oven for a few minutes when they arrive with wine and bagged salad in hand. Castiel is in the process of hanging up his aunt’s coat in the closet when he hears a solid _thwack_ from the kitchen. It’s immediately followed with a yelp and curse.

“What was _that_ for?” Dean is rubbing his upper arm and casting Aunt Amara a wounded pout when Castiel walks into the room.

“_That_ was for upsetting my favourite nephew.” She turns away with a huff and crosses over to where Sam is leaning against the counter.

“I’m your _only_ nephew.” Castiel sighs and rolls his eyes. He should have expected that she would do something like this the first time she sees the Winchesters since their last visit.

Sam holds perfectly still, even going as far as to hold his breath, but Aunt Amara is not a tyrannosaurus. She can still see him even if he doesn’t move, and it doesn’t save him from a solid smack upside the head. He ducks away, rubbing at the back of his head but otherwise not looking nearly as confused as Dean does.

Aunt Amara dusts her hands off and heads to the shelf for her usual wine glass. “And _that_ was for letting your idiot brother leave without a word last time.” She pats Castiel on the cheek before pouring a generous amount of wine into her glass. “If these two knuckleheads leave without a word again, you let me know and I’ll hunt them down myself.”

Dean, as witty as he usually is, only opens and closes his mouth in response. He looks to Sam and makes a somewhat hopeless gesture at Aunt Amara. They have a whole conversation with just their eyes alone (again lending weight to the argument that they must have some form of telepathy between them), before Sam clears his throat.

“We – uh – we _did _leave a note last time.” He recoils at the venomous look from both Aunt Amara _and _Anna. “In my defense, I thought it was a terrible idea! I tried to talk _him_ –” Sam points accusingly at Dean. “– out of it and told him that it would upset Cas, but he didn’t listen!”

With a sigh, Aunt Amara puts her glass down again. Dean is too preoccupied with glaring at Sam to notice when she turns to him again. She gets his attention again with another hard punch to likely the same spot as before. The hit has Dean staggering to the side and he catches himself on the counter.

“What the _hell_!” He looks to Castiel for assistance. “You’re really going to let her hit your guests?”

“You really think I’m able to stop her?” Castiel crosses his arms and leans his hip against the door frame. He nods towards his aunt as she takes another, somewhat smug, sip of her wine. “If _you_ want to try and stop her, be my guest.”

To be fair, Castiel isn’t really one for physical violence. Personally, he never once felt like hitting either of the Winchesters for how they left the last time they were here. That was partly due to the fact that he felt that he was the one to blame for why they left in the first place. He hasn’t spoken with either of them about whether or not their argument had any sway on their decision to leave, and he’d rather not know. Some things are better left as they are, and this happens to be one of them.

What matters is that they’re still friends _now_.

Anna stands on her tiptoes to get the salad bowl from the top shelf. “I wonder if you’ve apologized for bailing on Cas like that.”

And there it is. Castiel was wondering when she was going to get around to berating the Winchesters for that. Anna was suspiciously quiet about that matter when she was here for Dean’s impromptu birthday party the other day. Turns out, she was just biding her time until she had back-up in the form of Aunt Amara. That’s _very_ sneaky of her.

Sure enough, Aunt Amara lowers her wine with a tangibly menacing aura. “You _haven’t_ apologized?”

Since bloodshed is a very real possibility in the near future, Castiel elects to save himself the cleanup and he steps forward to stand between her and the Winchester. “I appreciate the protectiveness, but it’s not needed. Yes, they have both apologized and this matter is now well and truly done.”

When Anna turns with the bowl in hand and mouth open to make another comment, Castiel flares his wings in warning and gives her a _very_ pointed look. She snaps her jaw shut with an audible clack and breathes a loud sigh out her nose. Aunt Amara looks doubtful, but she returns to her wine without another word.

Silence reigns in the kitchen for a few beats longer before Dean breaks it with a quiet cough. “We have – uh – another twenty minutes on the pie cooking. Do we wanna head into the dining room and play a game or two of [thirty-one](https://m.wikihow.com/Play-31) while we wait?”

Anna cocks her head to the side, making her ponytail swing. “What game is that?”

Sam rolls his eyes with a sigh. “I’ll go get the change.”

“Change for what?” She looks after him with a confused frown as he heads out of the kitchen. “Why do you need change for a – what is it?”

“A card game!” Dean takes the salad bowl from Anna’s hands and puts it aside. He cups her elbow and guides her towards the dining room while gesturing for Castiel and Aunt Amara to follow. “It’s fun. I promise you’ll like it.”

What he neglects to tell them is that _math_ is involved. Granted, it’s very basic math, but Anna still hates when it’s involved in any game she plays. Sure, it’s easy when an Ace, King, Queen, or Jack are in hand – but when any of the numbered cards are involved, she always trips up just a little bit. She makes this _very_ well known through the rounds they manage to get through before dinner is ready. Castiel almost feels bad for her – except that even with her poor math skills, Anna still beats him on every hand.

* * *

“Were you really that upset?”

Castiel turns from his bedroom door to find that Dean has, once again, followed him. Is this going to be a habit of his now that he’s the one in the guest room for this visit? It’s not enough of a concern for Castiel to actually ask after it – at least not yet. If it happens more than, say, five times? Yes, that sounds acceptable. If it happens another three times in total, then _maybe_ he’ll bring it up.

Frankly speaking, Castiel is _exhausted_ after a busy evening with his family and the Winchesters. Anna and Aunt Amara have an energy to them that he just can’t seem to match even when it’s just the three of them. Adding in the Winchesters was a whole lot more social interaction that Castiel normally gets and it has most certainly taken its toll on him.

As such, he has no idea what Dean is talking about. “Huh?”

“When we left the last time.” Dean makes a vague gesture with a hand. “Were you really as upset as they said you were?”

_Oh_.

He shrugs and turns back to his door. “I suppose? When I realized you were gone, I just went right back to bed.” The door swings open and Castiel heads inside, knowing that Dean will follow him whether he has permission to or not. “I didn’t see the note until Anna came over the next day when she forced me to get up and go grocery shopping with her.”

A hand catches at his shoulder and Castiel just barely manages to bite back an undignified sound of surprise as he’s spun back around. Dean’s expression – though he only gets a brief glimpse of it – is pale and drawn as he pulls him into a hug.

“I’m _really _sorry, Cas.” He’s quiet as he hooks his chin over Castiel’s shoulder. “I honestly thought it was best for us to sneak out like that and I didn’t think – Sam tried to tell me that you wouldn’t like it.” Dean sighs and tightens his hold. “I knew you didn’t want us around from the beginning and after our argument I just – I thought you’d want us gone.”

Castiel doesn’t know what to do, but his throat feels tight when he swallows. “It was abrupt, but I knew that you were planning on leaving. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m over it. It’s fine.”

“Then hug me back, you bastard.”

Ah, yes. That would be the appropriate thing to do, wouldn’t it? You’d think with how touchy-feely Anna can be sometimes that Castiel would be used to it. But this is the first time that _Dean_ has hugged him and – and he froze up. And the longer he takes to rectify that, the more awkward this becomes.

He sighs and loops his arms around Dean’s waist, as there is really nowhere else for him to put his arms since Dean has a fairly firm hold around his shoulders. Though he returns the hug lightly, Dean only seems to squeeze harder. It– it’s surprisingly comfortable, and really warm? It’s almost like Dean runs hot. If it wasn’t for his healing abilities, Castiel would think that he has a fever. And why does he smell so – so weirdly _good_?

Dean smells like their dinner, and aftershave, and something deeper. It could take him a while to suss out exactly what it is, but it’s comforting. So comforting, in fact, that Castiel doesn’t realize that he’s tucked his face into the curve of Dean’s neck until Dean clears his throat.

_Oh God_.

Castiel jerks back a few steps with his face _on fire_.

“You’re kinda cuddly, aren’t’cha?” Dean’s smile is a teasing one and it makes him blush all the more.

“I wouldn’t know.” He grabs the edge of door and starts closing it in Dean’s face. Rude as that may be, Castiel can’t stand that amused tilt any longer. “Goodnight.”

Though he does back out into the hall, Dean leaves one foot forward to stop the door from being shut all the way. “But I’m forgiven, right?”

“Yes, Dean.” Castiel sighs. “Of course you are.”

With a whoop, Dean manages to blow him a kiss before moving his foot for the door to close. Castiel rests his forehead against it for a few moments, listening to the sound of his footsteps as he returns to the living room.

When he finally starts getting changed and ready for bed, it’s with what might be a _permanent_ blush in his cheeks.

* * *

** _Saturday – February 17th, 2018_ **

Castiel hums quietly to himself while he puts away the reference books he used today. The door to his office is open a crack and he can occasionally hear laughter and snippets of conversation from the living room. He left it open after his last bathroom break, since all he had left to do was upload his transcripts and send off notice to his clients that they were finished and ready for review. Now that those emails are finished, he can clean up and join the others for dinner and the rest of the evening’s activities.

Anna arrived about an hour or so ago, as per the text message notice she sent him. She knows better than to actually interrupt him while he’s working. Castiel is aware, from what he gathered during his bathroom break, that she has been swapping ass-kickings with the Winchesters at whatever video game they happen to be playing. Since he didn’t get a look at the screen and they were all talking over the music, he isn’t exactly sure _which_ game it is – thought it is one that has Dean cursing rather colourfully every now and then.

It’s really nice to just _listen_ to the liveliness of it all. Castiel is purposefully taking longer than necessary to clean up, just so he can bask in the feeling. His home is happy and warm again, and he’s really come to like having it this way. And that alone is a little amusing in and of itself. Exactly _when_ did he start liking having people around? For the life of him, he can’t pinpoint when he started to prefer the noise and the laughter.

Since his parents died, Castiel didn’t mind the silence when Anna and Aunt Amara weren’t around. He got used to it and it because _normal_ for him. And now – Well, now he’s loath to even think about what it will be like after Dean and Sam leave again. Unfortunately, that will probably be soon. They said they weren’t going to stay for a whole month again, but it’s already been three and a half weeks. The time has just _flown_ by and there’s a tight feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he so much as glances at a calendar.

As if thinking about it has summoned it, Castiel goes still when he hears Anna ask the dreaded question; “So, when are you guys going to be ditching us again for a paycheck?”

Dean actually laughs in response. “Unless you’re willing to pay us, we kinda need to go to work at _some_ point in the future.”

“Don’t sass me.” She sighs, and Castiel steps closer to the door so he can better hear the rest of the conversation. “Just answer the question.”

“I dunno, Anna.” The amusement in Dean’s voice isn’t present anymore. “We were kinda thinking about leaving in a day or so, I guess?”

“I think we were discussing about bringing that up with Cas at dinner tonight.” Sam adds his voice to the conversation. “I promise that I’m not going to let Dean sneak out in the middle of the night again.”

Even though this was expected, Castiel still holds his breath. His wings droop listlessly, almost all the way to the floor, as his heart clenches painfully in his chest. He knew it was just a matter of time, but they’re _leaving_? And in a _few days_? That’s just – that’s really horrible timing.

At the beginning of every month, Castiel draws a calendar on his big whiteboard on the wall by the door. On the nineteenth of this month, only two days away, there is a small sad face drawn in the corner of the square because that’s the anniversary of his parents’ death. Of course Dean and Sam have no familial obligation to be here for it, but Castiel would like to have his friends here as emotional support. Or is that too much to ask? He’s a bit unclear on that.

Despite the snow on the ground and the winter chill in the air, Castiel, Anna, and Aunt Amara will all be bundling up and sitting out at their graves for as long as they can manage. It was probably too much for him to hope that the Winchesters would want to come with. After visiting his parents in December and January, Castiel has spoken about them quite a bit and he rather wanted to introduce them to his parents properly. As a bonus, they would also be able to visit their mother again if they don’t want to spend the whole time at his parents’ grave.

Because February is the anniversary of when they died, he didn’t actually go out to their graves during the beginning of the month like he does every other month. Mostly it’s because he doesn’t like the idea of being out and about more than twice in one month – even though there are times when Anna forces him out to grocery shop in addition to visiting the graveyard.

On top of that, February is a _cold_ month and he hates the cold. By bundling his monthly visit into one with the visit on their anniversary, Castiel is effectively _halving_ the amount of time that he has to spend out in the cold. And Sam, who essentially heats the air around him whether he means to or not, would be a very welcome addition to the extended visit.

“You _can’t_ leave!” Anna gasps loudly enough to draw his attention back to the conversation they’re having. “Do you have any idea what the nineteenth is?”

“A Monday?”

Anna groans and Castiel can so perfectly picture her frown. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, smartass. No, it’s the anniversary of the day his _parents died_.”

Sam is the first to break the drawn out silence that follows. “We didn’t know.”

“He never said a thing about it.” Dean adds; his voice somber.

“Well _duh_.” Anna huffs. “Just – don’t leave before then, okay? It’s a tough day for him and you guys leaving on the same day would _suck_.”

“Of _course_ we’re not going to fucking go!” Dean almost sounds insulted. “We’re not going anywhere for a _week_ now. Not until Cas is okay.”

Sam must give some kind of visual agreement, because Anna actually sounds _happy_ when she speaks next. “You promise?”

“Cross our hearts.” Sam answers, and he sounds as sincere as he always does.

He exhales a slow sigh of relief and turns back to the bookshelves. Even though Sam insists that he turns off his radio when it comes to his empathy whenever he’s here, Castiel can’t help but wonder if he was able to feel any of his emotions in the last few minutes. It’s no big deal if he did, but it would be nice to know that he can feel the relief and appreciation currently sitting warm in Castiel’s chest.

* * *

** _Monday – February 19th, 2018_ **

There’s something ethereal about the world when you haven’t slept and everything is quiet. If the weather was nicer, Castiel wouldn’t mind sitting on the deck in the backyard and watch the sky change. The trees are too dense around his home to see the sunrise through them, but the shift into dawn as it colours the backyard with dim light is still just as magical.

Because it’s too cold, Castiel watches it from the warm safety of the dining room. The dredges of coffee in the mug between his hands has cooled off considerably, but he still brings it to his lips to sip at it. He _did_ try to go to sleep last night, but it never really came and he spent the night reading. When the need for caffeine grew to great, he came out here and prepared some coffee as quietly as possible since Sam is still sleeping on the couch.

Castiel has no idea how long he’s been sitting in the dining room watching the backyard before there’s movement in the doorway to the kitchen. Dean is standing there with his own housecoat hanging open and knuckling at his eyes.

He yawns widely and runs a hand through his hair. “How long have you been up?” At least he has the courtesy to keep his voice quiet.

All he can do is shrug and slowly finish off the last of his coffee.

Dean frowns. “Did you sleep at all?”

Castiel shrugs again.

After a few moments, Dean sighs and shuffles around the dining table to come to a stop next to him. He hesitates before putting an arm around Castiel’s shoulders in a semblance of a half-hug. It’s a bit weird, given that _hugging_ isn’t particularly something that they do, but it’s – it’s somewhat nice? Weird, but nice, and not more than he can handle. In fact, Castiel even leans into Dean’s side. He doesn’t lean his head against him, but he does take some comfort from the touch.

There’s been a weight sitting on his chest for the last several hours and it lifts just a little bit in that moment. If anyone would understand about how he’s feeling today, it would be the Winchesters. They know the pain of losing a parent so suddenly – and violently.

They stay like that in silence until movement in the living room startles Dean into movement. Surprisingly, he doesn’t move away and instead brings a hand to pat Castiel on the top of his head. His fingers run through his hair half-heartedly, catching in unbrushed curls. That’s – that’s a _very_ nice feeling and Castiel closes his eyes as he turns his head into the feeling. Dean pauses briefly before continuing with the gentle combing.

“Do you want anything for breakfast?”

Castiel shakes his head slightly, but not enough to dislodge Dean’s fingers. “Not really.”

“How about a bagel?” He slowly pulls apart a rather stubborn curl. “You should at least have _something_ in your stomach besides coffee.”

Even though he doesn’t really feel it, Castiel sighs and nods. He might as well accept it before it ends up being forced on him. Even with no sleep he’s able to tell which arguments he’s capable of winning when it comes to Dean.

With one last pat to his head, Dean finally steps away and disappears into the kitchen. As expected, judging by the noises from the living room, Sam makes his appearance not longer after that. His hair is flipped up weirdly where he was sleeping on it and he gives Castiel a squinty wave before heading off down the hallway.

About ten minutes later, Dean has a bigger breakfast underway for the Winchesters and Castiel is gnawing slowly on a perfectly toasted and buttered bagel. Sam returns looking _much_ more awake than he did before – and the coffee he has in hand is probably helping some. Dean lays out their usual breakfast fare once it’s ready and even goes so far as to place an empty plate in front of Castiel too.

“Just in case you want any.”

He doesn’t and maintains his steady stare out the window while Dean and Sam eat their breakfast. Everyone at the table is more or less silent with very little conversation taking place. If he could really feel anything at all right now, Castiel might feel bad for bringing the mood down. Unfortunately, he’s a little numb at the moment. Regardless, he still stands up to help them clean up.

“I’m going to shower first.” Sam announces while putting his plate and coffee mug in the dishwasher. He gives Dean a pointed look. “Because _someone _hogs the hot water.”

Dean rolls his eyes while he starts scrubbing the pan he used. “Go on then. We’re not leaving for a few hours yet, right, Cas?”

He nods and busies himself with refilling his coffee. If he’s going to get through today, he’s going to require a massive amount of caffeine. It’s the kind of day where he would like to have it injected straight into his veins to be more effective.

Sam heads off to get started, leaving Dean and Castiel alone in the kitchen. A few moments pass before Dean clears his throat. “Are you going to take a bath this morning too?”

“I took one last night.” Castiel shakes his head and leans his hip back against the counter. He’s surprised that Dean didn’t remember that on his own – unless he’s just trying to make conversation again. It’s a distraction tactic? If it is, it’s not a very good one.

“Oh, right.” Dean sighs dramatically. “How could I forget? I keep hoping you’ll come out in just a towel but you always change _in _the bathroom.”

That’s quite possibly the most blatant Dean has ever been with his flirtations. Castiel can only sigh and shake his head. He drinks his coffee without another comment, because what is there to say? Well, he could mention something about how he’s surprised Dean even knows that, since he’s never around when Castiel comes out of the bathroom. Usually he’s in the living room or the kitchen since he very rarely uses the gym in the basement with Sam.

“We’re bringing lunch with us, right?” Dean leaves the dishes to dry on a towel on the counter and dries his hands on his shirt. “We stashed our cooler in the basement. I’ll fill it up with – I dunno, what do you want? Sandwiches would be best, I guess.”

Soup would be nice, but Castiel is pretty sure that there’s only one thermos in the basement, and he’s not even sure _where_ it is. There are a lot of boxes down there. “Sandwiches are fine. Depending on what you make, Anna won’t want mustard on hers and Aunt Amara likes extra tomatoes.”

“Great. I’ve got leftover bacon, so I can make a couple BLTs.” Dean heads to the fridge to look at their supplies. “You have any special requests?”

“No.” He shakes his head and steps away from the counter. “I’m going to go rest up for a bit before we really get ready to go.”

That seems to really get Dean’s attention. He closes the fridge, crosses his arms, and gives Castiel a thorough once over. “You _should _get some sleep, but are you sure right now? I can wait on the food and go watch something with you?”

Castiel shakes his head again. “It’s fine.”

Dean looks doubtful, but he doesn’t press the matter. Castiel is sent off down the hall with another pat on the shoulder and nothing more. It’s a little surprising that Dean didn’t try for another hug – or half-hug – but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like he’s going to go back and ask for one.

Even though he lies down, Castiel doesn’t sleep. He stares at the wall throughout the entirety of Sam’s shower and Dean’s. Thankfully, he doesn’t actually _think_ of anything during that time. Castiel is barely aware that time actually passed before Dean is knocking on the door.

After three sharp knocks, he opens the door and pokes his head in. “Cas? We gotta leave in twenty. Time to get up and get ready.”

With a loud sigh, Castiel pushes himself up onto his knees. He turns over to sit cross legged and rubs a hand over his face. “Okay.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

He shakes his head. It’s normal, though. On this particular day of the year, he usually doesn’t get any sleep until he literally passes out. Anna is also usually here to help him get through the day. Since Dean and Sam are here, she’s deferred those duties to them – if only so as not to overwhelm Castiel with too many people watching over him. She’s well aware of how much he hates feeling babied, even if today is the only day where he essentially needs it.

“You need some help picking out something to wear?” Dean pushes the door open more and steps into the room. He holds his phone up and waves it slightly. “Anna said that you might.”

Castiel sighs and scoots down the bed to sit on the edge. He rests his elbows on his knees and stares at the partially open door of his closet. Even though it’s full of _his_ clothes at the moment, all he can see when he looks at it is all of his dad’s _many_ sweaters taking up most of the space. His mom barely had any room for her small amount of dresses that she owned. They used to almost touch the ground when they were hanging in the closet.

Back at their old home, long before Castiel ever presented, he used to play hide-and-seek a lot. One of his favourite places to hide was behind his mother’s dresses in the closet. No one ever found him, and even now he wonders if it was because no one ever expected him to hide in his parents’ _bedroom_ of all places. That’s of course never a place his friends would want to go.

Dean leans over to peek at his closet. “Do you want me to find something for you? That is, if you’re cool with me digging around in your personal stuff.”

“Why not?” He shrugs and rests his chin in his hands. “You’ve already looked through everything else.”

The mild jab at Dean’s nosiness earns him a roll of the eyes and a crinkled nose. Otherwise, Dean doesn’t say anything as he starts shuffling through all the shirts hanging above the dresser. He knows Castiel’s pattern well enough to stick to the un-altered clothing so the back of it can be worn over top of his bound wings.

After a few moments, he tosses a long sleeved shirt onto the bed. A zip-up hoodie lands next to it. The long underwear that Castiel reserves especially for visits to the graveyard during winter are also unearthed from his underwear drawer and they join the pile. They’re soon followed by his fleece lined pants and his thickest pair of socks. Castiel has the sneaking suspicion that Anna told Dean exactly what to pull and where to find it.

“That should do it.” Dean closes the closet and turns to him with his hands on his hips. “Anything else you need help with?”

“I suppose.” Castiel stands and takes a moment to stretch his arms above his head and his wings out. He’s aware the Dean watches the motion closely, but elects to ignore it. “Can you help me with my binder? It’s easier to put on with two people.”

For a brief moment, Dean just frowns at him in confusion. That clears up the moment Castiel gets his binder from the hook on the back of his door. “Oh, that! Um – Sure. I can help you put it on, if you’re okay with it?”

Castiel shrugs and turns his back to Dean. He puts one arm through the strap of the binder and tucks his wings tightly to his back. There’s still some hesitation on Dean’s part when he takes the binder and stretch it over top of his wings. His touch is gentle as he helps fit his arm through the other strap. From that point, Castiel is able to mostly finish it up himself. He does up the clasps in the front and then reaches back to pull it into proper place.

When Dean helps him get the long sleeve shirt on, his fingers linger a little too long on his feathers as he adjusts it. Castiel doesn’t have it in him right now to tell him off for it. He’s able to finish getting dressed on his own – even the hoodie. It’s much too big for him, but he purposefully always buys his un-altered clothing a few sizes too big to incorporate his wings.

Sam is sitting at the top of the stairs to the foyer, waiting for them. He stands up when they come down the hall and goes down to put on his boots and coat first. Dean tosses him the keys so he can go warm the car up while they get read. Castiel pulls on a thick, warm pair of _proper_ winter boots and forgoes the snowpants in favour of a thick winter coat. He wears thin gloves inside of big mittens and wraps a thick scarf around his neck. It’s big enough to pull up and cover his face if he needs it. He puts on both a hat _and _earmuffs to protect his ears because he hates the cold _that much_.

Dean passes him everything to put on one piece at a time. He’s taken to helping Castiel get ready like it’s second nature. Either Anna coached him very well, or he’s naturally good at this. Given how much of a home-body Dean is in regards to cooking and cleaning, Castiel wouldn’t be surprised if taking care of others is just something that he enjoys doing too.

Between the three of them, Castiel is most definitely overdressed. Sam wears the least wintery clothing than anyone. He has a nice coat on, but his his gloves and hat aren’t very thick and he doesn’t even have a scarf! Even so, he’s not even rosy-cheeked when he comes in from starting the Impala. Dean is a comfortable divide between them.

“Alright. Are we forgetting anything?” Dean asks while tugging his hat down over his ears.

“We have five chairs in the trunk.” Sam starts counting things off on his fingers. “And I’ve got three blankets. Anna and Amara said they’re going to bring their own. The cooler is packed and – oh!”

He slips out of his boots and disappears up the stairs and into the kitchen. Barely a moment goes by before he’s rushing back down the stairs with a travel mug in hand. “And here’s more coffee for Cas.”

“Thank you.” Castiel accepts it gratefully; holding it carefully between his mitted palms.

“Anna also texted to say that she’s already got the flowers.” Dean checks his phone and sends off a text of his own. “I think that’s everything. Ready to go?”

As ready as he’ll ever be.

Castiel allows Dean to guide him out the door with a hand on his elbow. Sam locks up behind them and he’s gracious enough to even allow him to have the front seat. Any time Castiel has driven with the Winchesters previously, he’s always been allocated to the backseat. It’s a bit of a treat to sit up front, but he’s in no place to really enjoy it. That and cars are always awkward for him, given that he has to sit forward to keep his wings from getting squished.

Aside from the radio playing during the drive, the trip to the cemetery is essentially silent. Anna and Aunt Amara are already there and waiting in their car when they pull up. They don’t get out of their car until Castiel gets out of the Impala.

Anna hugs him first, of course, and then she steps back to look him over with a critical eye. “It’s, like, thirty-five degrees out. You’re overdressed.”

He pulls his scarf down enough to stick his tongue out at her before putting it back in place. Aunt Amara rolls her eyes at the both of them and shoves Anna out of the way for her own hug. “Everything good so far, kiddo?”

“So far.”

Between the five of them, they get all the chairs from the Impala to the grave. Castiel leads the way through the snow, because he knows the route by heart. The graveyard keepers always insert thin orange poles near each grave to mark off where they are, but they can’t keep up with cleaning the snow off of all of them. Luckily, Aunt Amara came prepared. She brings with her a little hand-broom that she uses to brush the snow off everything.

While Anna changes out the flowers, Castiel helps Dean and Sam set up all the chairs. His spot will be right in the middle with Anna and Amara to his left, and Dean and Sam to his right. He’s almost a little disappointed that Sam and the heat from his mutation are sitting so far, but he doesn’t have the heart to say anything about it when Dean puts the cooler under the chair he announced as his own and it’s the one right next to Castiel’s.

The last thing to come from the cars are the blankets. They left them there so they could remain in what heat was left before being brought out. Even though Anna is with them, Dean still takes it upon himself to make sure that Castiel gets the biggest blanket and is properly wrapped in it as he takes his seat. But then he turns around and does the same with Anna and Aunt Amara too.

Once they’re all comfortable, silence falls amongst their group. It doesn’t last for long before Dean clears his throat. “So, uh, what were they like?”

Castiel blinks at the question; caught off guard by it. Dean just shrugs when he looks at him. “Just thought I’d ask, since Sammy and I are the only two who never got to meet them.”

“As the one who knew them both the longest, I’m going to field that question.” Aunt Amara sits forward slightly and tugs her blanket her shoulders a little higher.

She starts with talking about what Castiel’s dad was like when they were children. He was her twin brother, so of course she has _endless_ stories about him. They’re all ones that he’s heard before, but it’s always nice to hear about what a goofball his dad used to be. He was the creative type from early on and loved to do things with his hands. Gardening was just one of his many passions and Aunt Amara covers all of that, and then some.

From that she moves into talking about how his dad was _gaga_ for his mother long before he ever got her to date him. Apparently he knew from the third date that he wanted to marry her - which isn’t something that Castiel can really understand. He’s never felt that strongly about anyone he’s known in his life – which is fair, given how he barely knows anyone. But it’s nice to know how much his parents cared for each other before he came along.

Of course, as Aunt Amara loves to point out, it wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows. There are always ups and downs in any relationship, and his parents had their fair share of them. Castiel presenting did cause some issues until they were able to sort out what they were going to do. Regardless, they never didn’t love him. According to his aunt, Castiel was the apple of their eyes and the light of their lives. It was _because_ they loved him so much that they eventually decided that it was better not to register him so they could keep him safe from the discrimination mutants are subjected to.

When she talks about that, Castiel very carefully doesn’t take his eyes off the gravestone. He’s well aware that Dean and Sam don’t share the same opinion as he does, and today is just not a day where he could tolerate a discussion about their thoughts on the matter. But neither Winchester says anything besides the odd hum of acknowledgement to show that they’re listening.

Castiel makes a mental note to thank them both later for not turning the reminiscing into a debate.

It’s nice to just sit back and let someone else take control of the conversation. Aunt Amara and Anna know how awkward he can be better than anyone, and maybe that’s why they dominate the conversation. Anna occasionally interjects about her own memories of her aunt and uncle that she has from after she presented and moved here too.

Every so often, Dean or Sam asks a question, but mostly they’re quiet – just like Castiel. They just listen and laugh at the appropriately hilarious stories. It’s a good way to pass the time, and they only remember that they have a lunch to eat when Dean’s phone trills with a string of text messages and he notices the time as he sheepishly silences it.

He breaks out the sandwiches he made and Sam passes around baggies of carrots. Lunch fully distracts everyone from talking, mostly because even though it’s not _that _cold out, there’s still enough of a chill that those with scarves don’t want their face exposed for longer than it takes to eat.

When they finally wrap up for the day a while later, Castiel helps bring everything back to the car. Once everything is put away, he takes a few steps back towards the grave. “I’d like a private moment with them, if that’s okay.”

“Knock yourself out, Cas.” Dean leans back against the side of the Impala and crosses his ankles. “We’ll let Baby warm up while you have your moment.”

Anna and Aunt Amara nod in agreement and huddle together with Sam and Dean to keep talking. Castiel returns to the grave alone and he crouches in front of it. The smaller he is, the less body heat he loses.

“I love you.” He touches the stone once, briefly, before tucking his arms between his chest and his thighs. “And I miss you both every day.”

There’s always more to say, but he’ll save that for another time. He has friends and family waiting for him and he doesn’t want them to wait for too long in the cold. “I hope you liked meeting Dean and Sam. They’re - They’re really starting to grow on me.”

Castiel stands up again and shivers slightly. “I’ll come back and see you again in a few weeks. Hopefully it will be warmer by then.”

With a quiet goodbye, he returns to the others. Anna and Aunt Amara both hug him – at the same time, because they’re annoying like that – as soon as he’s close enough for it.

“So, what are the plans now?” Dean quirks a smile at him while he’s being sandwiched. “Anyone feel like coming back to Cas’s place for some games and drinks? If that’s okay with you, of course, Cas.”

“If that’s what everyone wants to do.” Castiel shrugs and wiggles his way out of the hug. “I’m fine with anything, though be warned: I might turn in early.”

Aunt Amara claps her hands together before putting them on Anna’s shoulders and starting to steer her towards their car. “We’re going to make a quick pitstop at home first, but we’ll meet you there.”

“Why can’t I go with them?” Anna looks over his shoulder, pouting slightly.

“I need your extra hands.”

Castiel waves them off before getting into the car with Sam and Dean. It’s weirdly cozy in the Impala, and he feels fairly comfortable. True to his word, Dean had it warmed up to perfection and Castiel pulls his scarf down to breathe easily.

He turns a small smile on both of them. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Sam leans forward and crosses his arms on the back of the bench seat. He’s situated himself in the middle of the backseat so he can look between them.

“For staying for today.” Castiel looks down at his hands and fidgets with the cuff of his mitten. “I know that you were planning on leaving.”

Dean huffs and drops a hand on his knee. “We wouldn’t do that to you, Cas.” He gives a brief squeeze before moving his hand to the gear shift and putting them into drive. “We’re you’re buddies, right? Friends are there for each other.”

He hums in agreement and leans his shoulder against the door. While he’s not excited for the Winchesters to be leaving again, he hopes that this time it will be on a better note. And hopefully they’re going to come back sooner rather than later. Castiel is already starting to look forward to their next visit.

* * *

** _Wednesday – February 21st, 2018_ **

There’s a weird pit churning at the base of his stomach and Castiel does his best to ignore it. He shifts on his feet at the top of the stairs, watching as Dean and Sam gather their things at the front door. They’ve already stripped their beds and put it all away. Castiel even started a load of laundry with the used sheets, since he’s actually awake to help out this time. And he’ll even be able to get in a proper ‘goodbye’ since they’re not going to be sneaking out.

“Okay, I think that’s everything.” Dean zips his duffle-bag closed and stands up. “There are leftovers in the fridge from yesterday that you can have for lunch, and we’re leaving what’s left of the groceries, so you’d better eat those before they expire.”

He looks up Castiel with a stern frown. “If I hear that you’ve lost weight _again_, I’m going to come back and hold you down to _force feed_ you.”

Between the two times that the Winchesters have been here, Castiel has put on nearly ten pounds. He lost everything and more than he had gained the last time they were here, but now he’s put it all back on again. Dean is overly concerned about his nutrition ever since he learned about how Castiel either has all pre-made and frankly unhealthy food, or he skips meals because he doesn’t feel like making anything to eat.

Castiel tilts his head and crosses his arms; leaning his hip against the wall. “That’s not much of an incentive to keep the weight on, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He snorts and rolls his eyes. “I don’t know _when_, but I promise that we _will_ be back. I just don’t want you to starve while we’re gone.”

“I don’t _starve_ myself.” Castiel huffs and looks away. “I just... forget to eat sometimes.” He shrugs and his wings shuffle against his back.

Sam shoulders his own bag, making sure to swing it enough to hit Dean with it. “Don’t give him a complex about his weight.” He fixes Castiel with a long-suffering smile. “He’s a mother hen at heart, Cas. He really just can’t help worrying about everyone.”

“Fuck off, Sammy.” Dean shoves him back a step. “Don’t be a dick.”

“It’s fine.” A small smile works its way to the surface and that pit in his stomach warms slightly as Castiel looks down at the both of them. “I appreciate the concern, but please remember that I do already have Anna and Aunt Amara to breathe down my neck about taking care of myself.”

Dean digs the keys for the Impala out of his pocket and passes them off to Sam. “Too bad, buddy. You made friends with me and now you’re stuck. I’m like gum on the bottom of your shoe. You’ll never be rid of me.”

“If I recall, I didn’t have much of a choice in making friends with you.” His nose wrinkles as his smile grows. He’s been doing that more and more the longer the Winchesters hang around.

Dean makes a face at him and Castiel, in a fit of playfulness, makes a face back. Sam groans and rolls his eyes. “God help me, there’s _two_ of them now.”

“Oh, puh-_leese.” _Dean scoffs and gestures at himself. “You can’t copy this masterpiece.”

“Just give me your bag.” Sam holds out his hand for Dean’s duffle-bag. “The car isn’t going to load itself, and knowing _you_, you’re -”

“Yup, okay, that’s enough.” He picks up his bag and all but shoves it into Sam’s chest. “Go on. Get!”

Sam flashes Castiel an amused grin before heading outside. That leaves Dean alone with him, and an almost awkward air descends immediately. Dean shuffles his feet and stuffs his hands in his coat pockets, and then takes them out again. He runs a hand through his hair and looks everywhere else before finally looking at Castiel.

“You could – uh –” Dean coughs and looks away again. “Y’know, you could always come with us?” He lets the question hang between them for a moment. “I still think you need to get out more.”

“I can’t.” Castiel shakes his head and shifts his arms until he’s more hugging himself than crossing them. He’s unregistered and with such an obvious mutation, people will always be asking to see his tattoo or his registration card wherever they go. Some places will refuse him service, where others might charge him more simply because he’s something he had no control over.

And the last thing he wants is to end up in jail, or worse; _the Facility_.

In truth, he _would_ like to travel with them. But that’s something that he would need to build up the courage for. He hasn’t _been_ anywhere since he presented, and that was a very long time ago. The part of him that’s terrified of the rest of the world is still _very_ vocal, but the part of him that enjoys the time with the Winchesters and hates to see them go is steadily growing louder.

Maybe one day he’ll be able to go with them, but today is not that day.

“But it’s okay.” He shrugs and looks down at the floor where he’s toes curl over the edge of the top step. “You can – If you’re ever in the area again, that is – My couch and guest room will always be open to you and Sam.”

For a moment, it seems like Dean is going to try and argue in favor of him travelling with them. His lips are pressed into a thin line when Castiel glances up again, but he doesn’t do anything other than to hold out his hand. “Thanks, Cas.”

With a sigh, Castiel descends the steps so he can shake Dean’s hand. He makes a started noise when he’s yanked forward by that grip; stumbling off the final step and right into a solid chest. Dean loops his arms around Castiel’s waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder; hugging him tightly. And Castiel is – He's frozen. Every time Dean hugs him is a surprise and it takes several moments before he can relax into and just enjoy it for what it is.

He’s slow to bring his arms up and around Dean’s shoulders, but it’s nice. Even after spending an hour cleaning and packing and kicking up dust, Dean still smells ridiculously good. And why is he so comfortable to hug? It never feels this nice to hug Anna or Aunt Amara. They’re both kinda boney; all sharp elbows and hips. Dean is – he's warm and soft, but solid and _why does he smell so good_?

Over the time that the Winchesters have been here for this second visit, Dean hasn’t been all that touchy with him. There were the occasional hugs, both two armed and one, and a touch to the shoulder here or there. But now that he’s leaving, Castiel thinks that he might actually _miss_ it.

Just a little bit, though.

When the door opens behind them, Dean jerks back out of the hug in a quick step. The sudden loss of contact is a bit disorienting, and Castiel can only blink at him.

Dean clears his throat with a cough and looks away. “Yeah, so, we’ll see you around. I’ll text or – uh – call you, or something. Bye Cas.” And with that he’s brushing past Sam and rushing outside before Castiel can even get a word in edgewise.

Sam raises an eyebrow as he glances after him. “I guess we’re leaving now.” He sighs and looks down at the snack bag sitting next to the door. “He could have at least grabbed the last bag.”

Unlike Dean, Sam doesn’t pull him in for a hug when he shakes Castiel’s hand. “Thanks for letting us stay again. It was fun.”

“It was.” Castiel stoops to pick up the bag for him and hands it off. “I already told this to Dean, but you’re both always welcome back here.”

“Good to know.” Sam all but _beams_ at him as he takes the bag. “I promise that I’ll keep you posted about our trip so you know we got to our next hunt safely. And after. It’s just a regular bond jumper, so it should be easy.”

Hearing about their job always makes his stomach twist with nerves. Castiel ignores it in favour of pulling on his boots. “Thank you.”

He hugs himself and follows Sam outside, though he stays on the step. From there, he watches Sam get into the Impala. Maybe his empathy picked up on it, but Castiel isn’t very fond of the idea of people he knows travelling on the highway during the winter. If Sam hadn’t offered to text him, he might have actually asked him to do it.

Castiel waves as the Impala backs up and then drives around the loop of gravel in front of the house. Dean honks the horn in a few quick notes on their way past. They head off down the drive and Castiel stays watching until they’re out of sight amongst the trees. He heads back inside and shivers; rubbing at his arms to warm them up. His wings flutter to shake the chill out of his feathers, despite how he wasn’t outside for very long.

The house is quiet and empty again, but it still feels warm. Even though the Winchesters are gone again, Castiel doesn’t feel quite as lonely as he did before. He can even go get started on his day of work with a smile on his face because he knows that they’ll be back.

They’ll be back because Dean _promised_ they would be.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Saturday – March 3rd, 2018_ **

The empty house echoes with his groan and Castiel drops his head back to stare at the ceiling. There aren’t a lot of times in his life where he feels like an idiot, but seriously. How could he be so damn _stupid_?

He rocks his head forward until his chin touches his chest and he can glare at the two black feathers he just found in the middle of the kitchen. They must have fallen out while he was reheating leftovers for his dinner and he didn’t notice them until _after_ bringing his plate back from the living room. Because Castiel likes to eat in front of the TV when he’s on his own. Like an _adult_.

An adult who just happens to be an _idiot_ because how could he have gone through the whole day with an itch under his feathers every so often and not realize _why_.

He’s _molting_.

Another groan rumbles in his chest as he bends down to pick them up. One is as long as his hand and the other is smaller, fluffier. He crushes them between his fingers, mangling them nearly beyond recognition before dumping them directly into the garbage bin under the sink.

Now that he knows the molting season is upon him, Castiel’s mood has soured significantly. He stomps all the way to his bedroom where he can stand in front of the mirrored closet doors and spread his wings to get a good look at them. As far as he can tell, they look as dull and normal as ever.

Since it’s just the first days of the molt, the colours haven’t started growing in _just_ yet. They’ll still be black as the new feathers come in, but there will be highlights of dark purples, reds, and greens growing in right alongside all of them. It’s marginally prettier than his normal feathers, but Castiel actually hates them _more_ just because of how uncomfortably itchy his wings get during the molt.

“It’s not even _Spring_ yet, you ridiculous things.” He mutters to himself as he pulls one wing forward under his arm and digs his fingers into the feathers to give them a good scratch. The relief is immediate and his eyes flutter closed for a moment because _damn_ that feels good.

Unfortunately, scratching only does so much, and it’s going to get _infinitely worse_. Castiel is _not_ looking forward to the rest of this month. The one saving grace that he can think of – and he does try to think of at least one positive during the molt, otherwise he’ll go out of his mind – is that the Winchesters won’t be here for this.

The next month and a half to two months (and once, horrifyingly, almost _three_ months), he’s going to be shedding feathers all over the house as new ones come in. For a few weeks in between, Castiel will have some reprieve with his colourful feathers, and then the process repeats itself all over again as he molts the coloured feathers and grows back his normal black ones.

Possibly one of the worst things about it is that he can’t leave the house the whole time.

Yes, going out in public causes him some stress, but Castiel is more or less used to the anxiety that comes with a trip to the grocery store or the cemetery. Sometimes he craves those trips just for a chance to see other people, or at least to get out of the house and stretch his legs in a different location. And none of that is possible during the molt. He won’t even be able to go visit his parents’ graves.

The molt is just the worst part of his mutation.

With the new feathers coming in and making his wings itchy, his wings end up shuffling a lot whether he wants them to or not. It’s a subconscious thing and would take a _lot_ of his focus to keep from happening so it wouldn’t be noticeable under his clothing. On top of that, the feathers are going to be growing back in at _full length_. They’ll be so long that even his favourite tan overcoat isn’t going to be enough to hide them from prying eyes.

If he wanted to go to the effort of trimming them multiple times over the next few months, he _might_ be able to go outside during the molt. But then Castiel would still run the risk of having them _move_. And, honestly, it is such a pain in the _ass_ to trim his feathers. For the last several molts, he hasn’t bothered with it and just spends the next two months with his wings at their full length.

It's honestly _very_ weird to have them that long. They feel heavier, and if they relax too much then they end up touching the ground, and that feeling always catches him off guard. It might seem silly, or pathetic, but it’s the truth. A simple stretch could knock over any number of things because they’re _huge_ and their reach is nearly twice as long as they usually are.

Sighing loudly and groaning again, Castiel lets his wings droop again. The only relief he gets from itching – and already that distracting burn is coming back – is to soak his wings. His baths are going to change _drastically_ both in frequency and how he takes them during the molting season. It takes a dog’s age for his wings to dry afterwards, but it’s worth it.

It's funny that the Winchesters never bothered to ask why he has such a deep tub.

* * *

** _Friday – March 30th, 2018_ **

“No.”

Anna still lifts her phone and ignores the venomous glare thrown her way. “Come on. Just one?”

Castiel points at her as his wings tuck tightly against his back. “Don’t you _dare_.”

To this date, he has somehow managed to go his whole life without having a single picture taken of his wings at their full length. That isn’t going to change just because he and Anna now share a pair of friends who know about his mutation.

“Please?” She even has the audacity to _pout_ at him; batting her eyes as if that’s ever worked for her before. “I _need_ something to tease him with. Just spread ‘em, beautiful.”

He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at her. Anna _knows_ how uncomfortable his wings are for him during the molting season. Why should she be allowed to use his pain to have fun with _his_ friends. Technically, yes, the Winchesters are her friends too, but they were his _first_.

Anna continues to pull her _puppy eyes _at him. “Imagine how happy this will make him!”

_Dammit_.

Dean _would_ be very happy to see Castiel’s wings at their full length. He has some weird obsession with them that they have thus far allowed to go unmentioned. At least Sam has honestly said how he personally finds them interesting, if only because Castiel is one of the few mutants with a physical mutation like this that he’s had the ability to actually converse with. It’s not a topic they talk about a lot, but Sam actually asks really thoughtful questions about what it’s like to live with a physical mutation.

Unfortunately, it’s not Sam that Anna is using against him. Wanting to show them to Sam because he would be interested in simply seeing what they look like fully grown wouldn’t be enough to sway him. But wanting to show them to _Dean_ because it would make him happy? That’s certainly enough to put a chink in his armor. It’s even more effective because Castiel can quite easily imagine how much it would make him smile.

And Dean’s smile is quickly becoming something that Castiel is _very_ weak to.

Sure enough, that breaks him. He grumbles quietly to himself as he spreads his wings – filling the living room with his wingspan and putting the colours on display. Anna wisely chooses to _not_ gloat. She takes several steps back into the dining room to get a better angle and takes a few quick pictures.

As soon as she’s satisfied, she focuses on editing and getting the picture sent off. She does it all with her tongue poking out between her teeth; tapping away at her phone in gleeful ignorance of the snack mess they need to clean up. And _she _made most of the mess in the first place!

Castiel folds his wings back into place and shuffles them slightly. Even with the feathers mostly grown back in by now, they’re still a little itchy. He has another week or so before the coloured feathers will molt and his regular colours will come back. They’ll look _slightly_ better for a while, but they’ll still be dull since he never oils them.

The rustling sound of his feathers catches Anna’s attention and she glances up from her phone. “I know it itches like hell and you hate it, but I still can’t over how you get _mating plumage _during your Spring molt.” She lingers on his feathers before looking away again.

“Thank you for reminding me that I have this to look forward to again in the Fall.” He flips her off and looks down at the scattered remains of the snacks from their impromptu Harry Potter marathon.

It looks like too much of a hassle for him to clean up and Castiel instead elects to flop face first down on the couch. The cushions muffle his next words; “I’m not a _bird_. What do I need _mating plumage_ for?”

Any answer Anna might have had is lost to a soft squeak of surprise when her phone starts ringing in her hands, right in the middle of tapping out a message. “Oh, facetime!” That’s followed by the quiet _bwoop_ of the call being accepted. “Hey, what’s up?”

Dean’s voice sounds a little tinny through the video call, but it’s still very distinctly _Dean_. “_What. The. **Fuck**. Anna!_?”

Castiel lifts his head just enough to peek out to look at her. Anna rolls her eyes and frowns at the screen. “Well hello to you too.”

“_Cas is there, right?” _Dean ignores the reprimand. “_Cas! Cas, I know you can hear me. What the **heck** is going on with your wings and why didn’t you tell me?!”_

Ah, yes. It has conveniently slipped Castiel’s mind (on purpose) to inform Dean and Sam about his molt. Anna insists that it’s not something that he should be embarrassed about, but it is. The only people allowed to see him like this are her and his Aunt. Now he’s just gone and allowed Anna to talk him into telling Dean and Sam about it in a very roundabout way.

“I see where your priorities lie.” Anna sniffs, nose in the air as she crosses the room so she can stand on the other side of the coffee table from him. “Give me a second…” She must change to the other camera, because she splits into a wide grin and waggles her eyebrows at Castiel. “There we go.”

“_Holy shit._” Dean breathes out just loud enough to be heard through the call. “_They’re so big!_”

“_That’s what she said_.” Sam adds, finally announcing his presence.

“That’s what she said.” Anna chimes in at the same moment.

“_Both of you shut up.” _Dean sounds like he’s rolling his eyes, just like Castiel is now. “_Cas, dude, your wings! They’re **so** awesome!_”

Castiel shakes his head and drops it back into the pillow to hide his face. “No, they’re _not_.” He flips the camera off before letting his hand fall to the floor again. And then immediately brings it right back up again so he can reach back and scratch at a spot. “They _suck_.”

“Don’t mind him.” Anna comes around the coffee table so she can stand next to him. She pats him gently on the hand, earning a blind swat at her leg. “He’s always _extra _grumpy from the beginning of March to the end of April.”

“_Let me see_.” Sam sounds a little annoyed and there’s the sound of shuffling on the other end. “_Oh, that’s interesting. I didn’t want to ask, but I figured you might have a molt. I just didn’t think that you would get **mating plumage**_.”

There’s a choked noise on the other end of the video chat and Castiel doesn’t even need to ask to know that it was probably from Dean. He sighs and curves his wings up a little higher over his shoulders to hide himself. “I would appreciate if we don’t mention my feathers _at all_, thank you.”

“But they’re so _pretty_!” Anna leans over him and, to Castiel’s surprise, starts _petting_ his wings.

Normally he would never allow this. To be fair, normally she wouldn’t be doing this at all. The only reason Anna is doing it now is to show off for Dean and Sam. And the only reason that Castiel is allowing it is because his wings itch and it feels very soothing to have Anna rake her fingers through them like she’s doing now.

Befriending Dean really did turn everything regarding his wings on its head. Apparently _Dean _liking his wings is call for _everyone_ to like them. Which leaves Castiel in the unfortunate position of begrudgingly putting up with it, despite his own deep rooted hatred for his wings.

“It’s really too bad that you can’t go outside with them like this.” Anna digs her fingers into the _perfect_ spot and Castiel muffles a pleased groan into the pillow. “They look _way_ better when you let all your feathers grow out properly.”

“Don’t get used to it.” The pillow muffles his words a lot and he lifts his head enough to be heard. “I’m going to clip them as soon as the molt is completely done.”

“_Aw c’mon_!” Dean whine. “_At least keep them until we come back! I want to see what those beauties look like in person_.”

Sam sighs and, again, there’s the sound of scuffling. “_The proper question to ask would be to know how long the molt lasts. Is it really all the way to the end of April_?”

“Pretty much.” Anna finally stops playing with Castiel’s wing and she sits on the floor with her back against the couch. She must turn her camera around again. “It starts around the beginning of March and molts into his mating plumage. After a few weeks it molts right back into his regular colours. Right, Cas?”

He grunts from the pillow. “Colour. Singular.”

“_It’s a nice colour, Cas_.” Dean sounds sincere and Castiel has to focus to keep his feathers from fluffing at the compliment.

Anna hums thoughtfully. “Well, black isn’t technically a colour, is it?”

“_It depends on if you’re an artist or a scientist. Both view it **very** differently_.” Count on Sam to give the same kind of answer Castiel was thinking.

“_Not the point here, guys_.” Dean huffs loudly. “_The point is that they’re pretty and how come **Anna** gets to pet them and I can’t? I call **favouritism**, Cas!_”

“Well _duh_.” Anna’s smile can be heard in her voice. “I’m his cousin and obviously he loves me more.”

There’s a beat of silence before Dean grumbles quietly. “_Rude_.”

“Don’t worry about it.” A hand touches the back of Castiel’s head once before patting gently. “He likes people the more he sees them. If you want to have a shot at being his favourite, you should probably come visit more often.”

Castiel slaps her hand away and reaches blindly to shove at her. “Stop harassing my friends. They have lives of their own and jobs to do.”

“_Sam, get your laptop._” Dean suddenly sounds _very_ serious. “_We gotta check if there are any jobs out that way._”

“_Or, hear me out, we just… go visit?_” Sam sounds amused. “_You know that we don’t need a job as an excuse to go back there, right?_”

“_Don’t talk back to me_.”

Sam sighs loudly and there’s a thud somewhere on the other end of the video call. “_Sorry, Cas. It seems like you might be seeing us again before the end of April._”

“_For the love of all things, **please** don’t clip your wings before we get there_!” Dean suddenly sounds much closer to the microphone and Anna starts giggling at whatever she sees on the screen. “_Please_!”

Castiel can feel his face starting to heat with a blush and he burrows a little deeper into the pillow to try and hide it. Hopefully the red creeping up the back of his neck and into his ears won’t be visible on the camera. He’ll never live it down if any of them figure out that he might slowly be starting to _like_ the attention Dean gives him.

Anna sighs and there’s a pout in her voice. It’s a tone Castiel recognizes so well that he can even envision the expression she makes to go with it. “Now it sounds like _you’ve_ got favouritism. You like Cas’s wings more than me.”

“_I like them an appropriate amount, thank you very much._”

“_Yeah, keep telling yourself that_.”

Sam’s sassy response is followed with a hiss of pain at the sound of a solid _thwack_. Anna snorts her way into another giggle.

Castiel would very much like the attention to no longer be on him, his wings, or his relationship with the Winchesters (specifically Dean). He tilts his face just enough out of the cushion so he can be heard. “Change the subject.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Anna’s giggles die down into another sigh. “So, where are you guys right now?”

It still takes a moment before either Winchester is able to answer. Dean sounds a bit winded when he does. “_New Mexico_.”

“Oh, nice!” She sits forward slightly, and Castiel shifts enough to be able to peek over the edge of the cushion to see the phone. “What’s the weather like?”

“_Warm and sunny. Not as much as Texas though._” Dean sounds like he’s smiling, but Castiel can’t quite see it with Anna’s head in the way. “_I **refuse** to take hunts in Texas at any time of the year._”

Sam snorts. “_You could always just take off a layer or two._”

“_Wow, it’s like you’re **asking** to be hit again._”

Castiel sighs and pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Stop hitting Sam.” He can see over Anna’s shoulder now to see how both Sam and Dean have their faces squished into the frame as if they haven’t figured out that they could sit farther back and be more comfortable. “Are you on a hunt right now? Is it a dangerous one?”

“_Nah, just some lame old bond jumper._” Dean shakes his head, but he’s smiling now that Castiel is sitting up. “_We’ve got a few like it lined up in the area. We’ll take care of them and then come hang out with you for a couple weeks_.”

Sam shoots a look and elbows him off camera. Dean frowns at him and rolls his eyes. “_But only if that’s okay with you_?”

Castiel almost smiles – but with Anna and Sam watching, he catches himself before he can. “Of course, Dean.” How many times does he have to say that they’re always welcome here?

The big, bright smile that he gets in return makes Castiel’s chest feel a little tight. “_Great_! _And you **promise** not to clip your wings before then? I want to see them all big and beautiful in person._”

“_Don’t be selfish, Dean. You know Cas doesn’t like –_”

Sam cuts off when he gets elbowed hard enough that he falls out of frame. Anna smothers a giggle behind her hand when he comes back into sight, glaring at Dean. “This is _so_ amusing to watch, being a single child and all.”

“_So glad we can amuse you._” Dean sticks his tongue out at her. “_But, for serious, please don’t clip your wings until we can see them?_”

“I won’t make any promises.” Castiel shakes his head and props his chin in his hand. He fans his wings straight up until the tip of his feather touches the ceiling. “They get in the way and the feathers growing in are itchy enough to drive me crazy.”

It’s actually reached the point where he’s seriously considered building a small indoor swimming pool in the basement so he can just soak his wings for two months straight. He’ll soak them in the tub, but it’s a cramped space and he can’t spread them out. Showers are marginally more comfortable, but then he’s standing with soaked wings and they weigh him down considerably when they’re wet.

Dean makes a whining noise low in his throat, but Sam shoves him off screen with a hand over his face. “_That’s fine, Cas. Don’t make yourself uncomfortable just because he’s got a kink for wings._”

“**_DUDE!_**”

At that, Anna starts _cackling_. It’s the full body kind of laugh that has her throwing her head back and kicking her heels against the floor with. Castiel isn’t nearly as amused. He drops back into the pillow with a quiet groan, choosing to _not_ react.

He certainly thought to himself that Dean might have _too_ much interested in his wings, but having it said so blatantly is – God. It’s making him blush again and there’s a weird, tight ball of nerves forming in the vicinity of his stomach. Castiel isn’t sure if it’s because of his general dislike for his wings, or because he has _no idea_ how to act or feel now that he knows Dean’s appreciation for his wings could be more than just in regards to aesthetics.

It baffles him how _anyone_ could be attracted to his wings.

* * *

** _Monday – April 16th, 2018_ **

“Stop staring, Dean. You’re going to make him uncomfortable.”

“I’m not staring.”

“You’ve been looking at nothing else _but _his wings since we got here.”

“I’m not _staring_.”

“_Dean_.”

Castiel very pointedly ignores the whispered conversation taking place in the living room. He would have thought that the fact that they were in the middle of playing _Super Smash Bros_ that Dean would have been too distracted to pay much attention to his wings. Or he would have thought that Dean got enough staring-but-not-staring in yesterday when they arrived in the late afternoon. Clearly, he was wrong.

To his credit, Dean _was_ fairly subtle with how he watched his wings yesterday. And he hasn’t made any attempt to touch them either – which is better than Castiel thought of him, certainly. He was fully prepared to have to have to lecture Dean about personal boundaries and how he’s just barely comfortable with hugs, let alone having his wings touched repeatedly – and especially without his explicit permission.

It's a pleasant surprise to find that Dean is better mannered than that.

Rather than listen to them whisper-argue, Castiel focuses on opening the manuscript that was just delivered by courier. He had been expecting it and was fully prepared to not only wear his housecoat when answering the door, but to only open it wide enough to sign and accept the package because he’s in full molt again. It would have been weird for the courier, certainly, but at least they wouldn’t have seen his wings.

Thankfully, because the Winchesters are here, Sam was able to answer and sign for it instead. Now Castiel gets to have the fun of sorting his manuscript for editing. He’s a little weird with how he likes to go through the physical copies, and he had to first gather all the things needed from his office. While he _could_ work there, he usually uses the dining table for this sort of thing – or sometimes even sitting on the floor at the coffee table while watching a movie.

For physical manuscripts, Castiel likes to break them down by chapter, punch holes in the paper, and put each of them in their own duo-tangs. Every duo-tang gets labeled and he has a pack of tiny sticky-notes slipped into the pouch on the inside cover that he can use to mark pages as needed. He’ll edit everything in red as he goes, but he has a _process_. It’s not often that he gets a physical manuscript and, as tedious as it is to edit them, it’s almost a bit of a treat.

They’re the one part of his work that he can do anywhere in the house without having to move the entire set up. He can take his dictionary and thesaurus to the living room, kick back, and edit while watching a movie. Or, if the weather is warm and nice outside, he could sit in the sun on the deck. It’s nice to switch it up every so often and work in a new area.

With the Winchesters here and playing their games in the living room, Castiel should have just done this all in his office. But it doesn’t take that much concentration to break up the chapters and put them in folders. Out here he can at least visit with the boys while he does it all. And, frankly, he’ll take any excuse to be out of the office.

An itch builds in one of his wings and, without thinking, Castiel shuffles it slightly to hopefully just shake out whatever feather is causing the itch in the first place. He’s been dropping the coloured feathers since early last week and has been taking showers _twice a day _to deal with the itching.

The itch doesn’t go away with the small shuffle. He sighs and fans his left wing out slightly, giving a short sharp flap before folding it back to place. One of the Winchesters, and Castiel is certain he knows which one, sucks in a sharp breath. The itch hasn’t fully settled, but it’s better and he can ignore it while he thumbs through the pages of the manuscript to find all the chapter breaks.

Castiel completely misses how the furniture usually creaks when someone stands up or sits down. He’s not aware that anyone has moved until Sam makes a quiet, unhappy sound. “_Dean_!”

There’s something about the way he says Dean’s name that has the hair on the back of neck stand on end. Castiel turns sharply to see what’s going on. Dean all but squeaks in surprise as he gets, first, a face full of feathers, and then ends up falling backwards onto his ass. It’s not a far fall for him since he was apparently crouching behind Castiel already.

Dean has a feather in his hand and he blinks up at Castiel with a distinctly _guilty_ smile. “You – uh – you dropped this?” The feather is about as long as his hand and tinged a subtle dark green.

“Were you trying to steal one of my feathers?” Castiel crosses his arms and frowns down at him.

“No, definitely not.” Dean shakes his head, his grin taking on more of a cheeky edge to it. “That’s totally not something I would do.”

His wings shuffle against his back as he rolls his eyes. “You could have just _asked_.”

For a brief moment, Dean actually looks hopeful, but then he arches an eyebrow and actually looks _amused_. “Pretty sure you would’a said ‘_no_’.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Castiel holds his hand out. “Now you’ll never know. Hand it over.”

A pout draws out his bottom lip, but Dean still hands the feather over. Castiel overs his other hand to help him to his feet again, and then leaves him there to return to his bedroom. Normally he would just cut up a feather this big and throw it straight into the trash. But now that he knows Dean _wants_ one of them – Well.

He opens the rarely used bottom drawer of his bedside table and drops the green feather into it. Castiel won’t give it to Dean right now because _boundaries_ need to be set. But if he asks for one later one, then maybe he’ll allow it. _Maybe_. It all depends on how he’s feeling at that time. At the moment it’s – it’s _weird_. There’s a warm heat curling under his ribs and he has no idea why.

Once he returns to the dining room, Dean is slumped on the couch next to Sam and he’s pouting at the TV. Sam just shakes his head and sighs. “I’m sorry. He just _really_ likes your wings.”

“They’re just so frikken _cool_!” He explodes, both arms uncrossing to gesture at him.

Castiel shrugs and returns to sorting his papers. “At least _one_ of us likes them.”

That draws an unintelligible gurgle of a noise out of Dean and he sits up sharply. “That’s it. I have a new mission in life, Sammy.”

“One that isn’t all about watching every _Busty Asian Beauties_ video available online?”

With his back to them, Castiel is free to frown at that particular comment. He’s the last person to ever judge someone for things they like, or things they do, but _really_? That sounds like far more information about Dean than he ever wanted to know.

“Wow, Sam. You’re really just gonna call a dude out like that?” Dean’s tone is _far_ from impressed, and he follows his words up with a solid hit that has Sam hissing in pain. “That’s _rude_. No, my new mission in life is to get Cas to love himself.”

Oh, God. “I like myself just fine, thank you.” Castiel sighs, but his wings draw up a little tighter against his back. “My _wings_ on the other hand –”

“But those are a _part_ of you!”

Castiel turns from his work; one hand planted on the table and the other fisted against his cocked hip. “You haven’t even been here for a full twenty-four hours yet, Dean. Are you _sure_ that you want to argue about this again?”

Because the few times that they’ve argued about how he feels regarding his wings and mutations in general haven’t been the only times they’ve talked about it. They’ve had several (short) ‘_debates_’ about this over text where one or both of them just stops responding. It’s usually a day or so of radio silence after that before someone picks up a different topic of conversation.

Meanwhile, the text thread that Castiel has with Sam regarding his wings takes a very different direction. They don’t _argue _about it like he does with Dean. Sam is very inquisitive and he asks deep questions. Their conversations are more philosophical in nature, and that’s about the end of it. On the other hand, Castiel can seemingly talk with Dean for hours on end about anything under the sun. Dean is as sharp as a tack and he learns a lot from their conversations too.

The juxtaposition between the brothers is interesting, to be sure.

Dean crosses his arms and flops backwards into a slump again. Sam bites his lip to keep himself from laughing and holds out the controller that Dean had abandoned before. “Why don’t we keep playing? Or we could start a game of Mario Kart?”

“I said I would _never_ play that game again.” He hisses and snatches the controller.

Castiel rolls his lips between his teeth and turns back to his chapters. “I didn’t beat you _that_ badly.”

“My ego will never recover.”

“C’mon, Dean.” Sam cajoles softly. “You’ve always beaten me at it before. If anything, playing against me should _boost_ your ego.”

Castiel nods in agreement while using the hole punch on the chapter in hand. “He has a point.”

“Stop siding against me. Two against one isn’t fair.”

“If it helps, I promise not to join you.” He turns back to them and flaps the stack of papers in their direction. “I’m still technically on the clock.”

Dean glowers at the TV without looking at either of them before _finally_ sighing loudly. He really does like his dramatics. “_Fine_.”

Sam grins brightly as he stands up to go change out the disk in the Wii. While his back is to Dean, he shares a secret wink with Castiel. He’s certainly a pro at distracting Dean when he gets in a _mood_. Castiel is very grateful for it because half the time he’s mentally floundering without the first clue of what he should do about it.

When it comes to handling either Winchester, Castiel is still learning the ropes.

For instance, there are times when Sam can get into a kind of depressed state if something leads to him thinking about all the times that Dean has been hurt because of him, or when he starts blaming himself for what happened to their mother. Dean gets fixated on things and he can be argumentative without really intending to.

It can be difficult, but they’re still both fun to spend time with and Castiel is happy to have them in his life. He likes having someone else to talk to besides Anna or Aunt Amara (both of whom he loves dearly).

* * *

By the time Castiel finishes his work for the day, Dean’s _mood_ is long gone. He even banishes Sam to the recliner and makes room on the couch for him to join them in a new game of _Splatoon_. Castiel is barely settled before Dean stretches out across the cushions to rest his feet in his lap. This is becoming a habit of his, it seems, and he acknowledges it with nothing more than a roll of the eyes.

Castiel rests his arms across Dean’s ankles, controller in hand, and chooses to focus on the game than that weird _tingle_ filling his insides.

* * *

** _Wednesday – May 2nd, 2018_ **

Castiel is more prepared for Sam’s birthday than he was Dean’s. While he wasn’t expecting them to actually be here for it, given that this visit was decided last minute because Dean wanted to be here for his wings, he _was _ready for it. After his mild panic of having Dean’s birthday announced the morning of, Castiel had insisted on knowing Sam’s birthday so he could put it in his calendar and be ready for it.

He's so ready that he’s had the present for him since early April. It was ordered online rather than having Anna shop for it, and Castiel even _wrapped _it. Well, he _tried_ to. That particular effort did not go very well and he ended up bagging it like he does with most things. But it’s the thought that counts.

In this case, the thought was that Sam enjoys reading. In particular, he enjoyed the first book to a series that Castiel had on his shelves. It was an interesting premise, but he wasn’t able to get into the writing himself. Sam, however, did express an interest in reading the sequels. It’s a four-book series and Castiel got him the box set. Hopefully he’ll like it.

Even though there’s a small collection of gifts already artfully arranged, courtesy of Dean, in the middle of the dining table, they’re not actually going to be opening presents until later this evening – after dinner and cake. Dean has a whole day planned – though not all of it involves Castiel. Not for a lack of trying, though. Castiel and Dean did have a minor argument last night about how just because they’re _here_ doesn’t mean they have to be confined to the house the whole time.

It took a lot of convincing, but Castiel eventually managed to win Dean over. While he can’t go out today doesn’t mean that _they_ can’t. As such, Dean will be taking Sam out for lunch and a fun jaunt around town to visit their old haunts. If his situation were different, Castiel would have loved to go with them to learn a little more about the Winchester. Sadly, his wings are still molting and he still has a job to do.

On the bright side, having the Winchesters out of the house will actually give him the chance to work. And Anna will be accompanying them for as long as he can in between having to courier things back and forth across town. She’ll be Castiel’s eyes and ears and will report back to him everything that he won’t be there to witness. It’s better than nothing, certainly.

For now, he’s going to work hard to get his recordings transcribed before they get back. Then he can enjoy another quiet evening of dinner and games with his friends and celebrate Sam’s twenty-fourth birthday with the fanfare that it deserves.

* * *

** _Saturday – May 5th, 2018_ **

“Cas?” Dean knocks at the door – one of the few sanctities of personal space he actually adheres to. “Are you ready yet?”

“Almost.” Castiel eyeballs the edges of his feathers in his reflection, stretching his left wing out to make sure that everything is even. “You can come in.”

Of all the sounds Dean has made when he sees Castiel either shirtless or with his wings stretched out, he has never gasped in horror as he does when he walks into the room right now. “What are you _doing_?!”

“Clipping my wings.” He shrugs and folds his left wing forward under his arm so he can even out the primaries. His right wing is already finished.

Dean moans like he’s dying and sits heavily on the edge of the bed, looking forlornly at the little bits and pieces of feathers scattered around Castiel’s feet. “This is a _travesty_. Why? _Why_?”

“You’re taking me grocery shopping with Anna. Did you seriously think that I was going to go to the store with my wings almost touching the floor?” Castiel rolls his eyes and continue snipping. “The molt is basically over anyways.”

“And I didn’t get a _single_ feather.” He slumps forward to rest his elbows on his knees, very nearly pouting. “You kept picking them up before I could get any.”

Castiel glances up to look at Dean’s reflection. “I don’t know why you would want any.”

Dean shrugs and props his chin in his hands. “I dunno.” He finally looks away from the clippings to meet Castiel’s gaze in the mirror. “I just thought it would be a nice little something to remember you by while when we’re not here.”

“Because our daily texting conversations aren’t enough?” He raises an eyebrow.

“That’s different.” Dean looks away again, finding the floor between his feet to be much more interesting. “I mean, don’t you ever want anything to remind you of us?”

In answer, Castiel turns and uses the scissors to point at the bedside table not occupied by his charging cable or alarm clock. There’s a framed photo of the Winchesters, Castiel, and Anna on it – taken on Dean’s birthday back in January.

“Oh.” Dean stands up and goes to pick it up. “You – uh – When did you put this out?”

“A while ago.” He puts the scissors down and runs his fingers through his feathers to dislodge any clipped bits that are still stubbornly holding on. “It’s a reminder that I have friends now.”

The frame makes a quiet thump as Dean puts it down. He crosses the room in a few quick steps and, ignoring Castiel’s protests, moves his wing out of the way. Dean loops his arms around his waist and pulls him into a tight hug. There’s no point in fighting it and he sighs, arms coming up to rest around Dean’s shoulders.

“You’re awfully emotional today.”

“Shuddup.” His breath is hot against Castiel’s skin as he presses his face into his shoulder.

Castiel is painfully aware that he’s shirtless, and that Dean’s hands are _exceptionally_ warm where they rest in the small of his back. He refrains from saying anything about it, because trying to get Dean to end a hug earlier than he wants to is near impossible. And it’s not like Castiel _minds_ them. They’re actually fairly nice and –

“I _thought _I felt a spike in the sap content of the area.” Sam appears in the doorway with a grin. He joins the hug without hesitation. “I want in on this.”

Dean grumbles and reaches back to try and shove Sam away. “There’s no sap.”

“He’s emotional because I keep a picture of us next to my bed.”

“You _do_?” Sam grins over Dean’s shoulder and squeezes even harder. “That’s so sweet!”

“Dude!” Dean breaks the hug with a flail and a sharp jerk backwards. “Stop squishing me!”

That does nothing to deter Sam’s smile. “Are you banning me from group hugs? I don’t think you have the authority to do that.”

“If you’re going to keep turning me into a sandwich, then _yes_, I am.”

They stare each other down for a few moments before Sam shrugs. “Fine, then I’ll just hug Cas on my own.” He holds his arms out and takes a step forward.

Before Castiel can even resign himself into being a part of another hug, Dean is stepping between them. “No way, no how. Go on, Sammy, get out!” He shoves at Sam and flicks his wrists in little shooing motions. “Can’t you see that Cas is half naked and he’s busy with his wings?”

Amusement shines brightly in Sam’s eyes, even as Dean continues to herd him towards the door. “But _you’re_ in here bothering him too.”

“I was just checking if he was ready to go!”

Castiel rolls his eyes as he gets the vacuum from where he put it in the corner. “And I’m not.”

“Well, we can _see_ that.”

“Dean, I think we’re just delaying things longer by bothering him.”

“Fine!” Dean throws his hands in the air with a huff. “We’ll go wait in the living room!”

“But I’ve got something for you.” Castiel hums quietly and it’s almost drowned out by the roar of the vacuum as he turns it on.

Dean freezes in the doorway, still in the process of shoving Sam out into the hall. He turns slowly, eyes bright and curious. “Something for _me_?”

Rather than answer and shout to be heard over the vacuum, Castiel quickly finishes vacuuming up the bits and pieces of his feathers. He always cuts them small instead of in bigger chunks purely so it’s easier to clean up. It does make it a longer, more tedious process for trimming, but he’s found that he prefers that over having to bend over and pick them up by hand.

Once he turns the vacuum off, Castiel nods towards his bedside table. “Bottom drawer.” You can take your pick too, Sam. If you want any, that is.”

Sam tags after Dean, looking just as curious and excited at the prospect of a gift. Castiel pretends to busy himself with wrapping the vacuum’s cord around its pegs, but he watches them in the mirror to see their reactions.

Dean gasps loudly when he opens the drawer to find an assortment of feathers. The big ones were all cut up and thrown out, but Castiel saved the smaller ones. There’s nothing bigger than his hand, but the variety is really in the _colour_. Some are the normal black, but many of them are the assorted reds, greens, and purples of his downright _ridiculous_ mating plumage.

“I thought you threw these all out.” Sam glances back at him with a small, pleased smile.

Castiel shrugs and ducks his head. “Dean made such a fuss about it that I thought I might as well save some for you to look through. You don’t _have_ to take any if you don’t want to.” But he does like the idea of the Winchesters taking a piece of them with him. If it didn’t scare him so much, he would take Dean up on his offer to go with them.

There’s a reverent kind of _awe_ to Dean’s voice as he carefully starts taking the feathers out of the drawer, one at a time. “I’ll take them all.”

“Don’t be greedy, Dean.” He shakes his head as he moves the vacuum next to the door, so he remembers to put it back in the front hall closet before they leave. “Let Sam pick first.”

After a long pause, Dean sighs and steps out of the way. “Fine, go ahead.”

Sam doesn’t take long to choose. He sorts through them before stepping back with a small black one. “I think this is good.” He runs it through his fingers and smile. “Bobby has a laminator. I could use that to turn this into a bookmark.”

“Fantastic.” Dean shoulders him out of the way and continues picking them up. “The rest are mine.”

“And what are you going to do with them?” Castiel steps in front of the mirror and spreads his wings again to check them out once last time.

“Not a clue, but they’re mine now.” Dean grins and turns, his hands full. His smile falls slightly when he takes note of Castiel’s wings. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything about what a shame it is to clip them and just sighs. He’s learning. “Thanks, Cas.”

Satisfied, he folds his wings and opens the closet to start getting the rest of his outfit. “You’re welcome.”

“You gonna need a hand with your binder again?”

He doesn’t _need_ the help, but it is certainly easier. “If you want to.” And, knowing Dean, he won’t pass up any excuse to get to touch Castiel’s wings – no matter how briefly. Though he does always take longer than Anna does with it.

Castiel never mentions it because he’s finding that he minds it less and less. Dean never touches his wings, or any part of him, without some kind of permission first. He’s very respectful that way, even if his fascination with basically anything having to do with Castiel is a little weird.

Despite the care he took with picking them up before, Dean drops the feathers on the bed without hesitation. He gets the binder off its hook on the back of the door and brings it over. Sam stays standing in the doorway, watching as Dean helps fit it over his wings and pull it into place. There is _some_ lingering, but it’s not very obvious.

They end up waiting there for him to finish getting dressed. Anna will be meeting them at the grocery store so they can shop together and come home with them. It’s going to be a bit of a going away dinner tonight since the Winchesters are planning on leaving again tomorrow. Aunt Amara will be joining them later when she’s done work.

It was a shorter visit, but it was still nice, and Castiel hopes that they’ll be back again soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Wednesday – May 9th, 2018_ **

His phone vibrates slightly on the counter and the text tone interrupts the [YouTube video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqXOrejii_w) currently playing. Castiel has watched it about three times now, but he keeps restarting it to certain places to make sure that he’s following the instructions properly. He can see that the message is from Dean, and that’s cause to pause the video.

It's safe to step away from the stove at the moment, if only because the chicken breast is fully cooked and already cut into manageable pieces, and his soft-boiled egg is cooling in the bowl of ice water, waiting for him to peel it. His noodles are cooking in the egg water and he likes them extra soft so it’s going to take a while.

Though there’s not _that_ much work going into turning his plain pack of instant noodles into a proper ramen bowl, it had damn well better taste infinitely better if he had just thrown it all together like he normally would.

Castiel actually finds it a little amusing that Dean has texted him _now_, of all times. Dean always berates him about the lack of effort he puts into cooking and how unhealthy it is – despite how Sam says that they eat a lot of take-out when they’re on the road. But when he’s alone and cooking just for himself, Castiel normally has pre-cooked food that he can either throw into the oven, dump in a pot, or toss in the microwave. Nothing that requires _effort_.

He turns down the heat on the broth – made with chicken broth, garlic powder and ground ginger because he doesn’t have the _real_ ingredients asked for in the video – and picks up his phone to read Dean’s message.

_Did you think about it?_

** _Think about what?_ **   
_Read 2:31pm_

But Castiel already knows what he’s asking. It’s been just about the only thing he’s been able to think of since Dean and Sam left the other day. His phone vibrates and beeps again a few moments later.

_What I asked you…_

_When we left?_

** _You mean the thing that you’ve asked or   
joked about every time that you’ve left?_ ** _  
Read 2:34pm_

_… Yah._

Castiel takes a deep breath and puts his phone down again. He rests both hands on the counter and hangs his head between his shoulders, staring at the conversation. They’ve only been here three times and each of those times, in one way or another, during or afterwards, Dean has asked Castiel to go with him. This last time was no different.

Rather than jokingly saying that he should just get out of the house, this time Dean specifically said that he should come with them back to Sioux Falls in South Dakota. He expounded about how Castiel would just love Bobby and Pam, and how they would love to meet him too. Apparently they’ve both been asking about meeting him, if only because the Winchesters talk about him so much.

Dean has been _very_ vocal in how much he wants to show Castiel his apartment, and the collection of video games he has. He wants to take him on a tour of the school, and to the gun range they have on the property. Castiel sincerely hopes he’s joking about this, but Dean has also mentioned wanting to have him run the obstacle course just for how amusing it would be.

He talked up Sioux Falls quite a bit, and then asked just before they left. Even though the request was different, Castiel turned him down as he’s always done. But Dean has no idea how _tempting_ this request was. ‘_Come to Sioux Falls_’ is a lot more enticing than ‘_come traveling God-knows-where with us_’. A specific destination isn’t nearly as scary as the unknown. And the school isn’t likely a place where he’ll have to worry about hiding his wings.

Even if Castiel did have to hide his wings while he’s there, he wouldn’t have to try too hard to him them. He could probably get by with just his coat whenever he’s outside – if he needs it at all. From his understanding, there are actually a lot of mutants in the bounty hunting business. Class One to Class Three mutations can actually be quite helpful in hunting, so Castiel has been led to believe. His wings probably wouldn’t be that out of place at the school.

Bobby and Pamela, the owners of the school, are apparently aware that Sam is unregistered. Pam helped him learn to control his powers, and there’s no way that would have happened without Bobby knowing. Other members of the school might not be aware of it, but the way Dean talks about the other members of the school makes it sound like no one would bother to ask him if he’s registered. It would just be assumed that he was if he was to walk around with his wings out.

Of course his anxiety would be through the _roof_ if he was ever to do that, but it doesn’t hurt to just _think_ about it. The only reason he keeps saying ‘_no_’ is because he’s scared of being found out. Dean says it would be a safe space for him and Castiel is very tempted to believe him. He _has_ been thinking about it over the last few days.

Sioux Falls and the school would probably be the safest place for him to go if he was to try traveling for the first time. Or would it be better if he went somewhere closer first? Sioux Falls is in an entirely different _State_ and it’s so far from home. Could he go there without spending the entire trip suffering from the mother of all panic attacks?

Castiel knows he’s scared. _New_ things terrifying him. He can vividly remember his near mental breakdown he had in the back of his aunt’s car the first time her and Anna forced him to go grocery shopping with them. Up until that point, his parents had done all the shopping and he never had to leave the house at all while they were alive.

They did everything for him and were very adamant that he never leave the property. His parents convinced him that the rest of the world was dangerous and if his wings were ever seen and he was found out to be a mutant, he would be taken away. Castiel knows now how bad that was for him, and how it certainly hasn’t helped his fears.

But he’s trying to be better.

He _wants_ to be better.

He picks up his phone again.

** _Yes, I’ve been thinking about it._ ** _  
Read 2:40pm_

_And???_

** _I’m…_ **

** _Scared…_ ** _  
Read 2:42pm_

A moment after the ‘_read_’ tag appears in the app, his phone starts ringing. Castiel very nearly drops it in his surprise and he fumbles to answer it on speaker. He needs to take care of his ramen before the noodles get _too_ mushy.

“Hello, Dean.” With speakerphone on, Castiel puts the phone next to the bowl of cold water with his soft-boiled egg inside. He turns the heat off on the stove and starts scooping the noodles out with the pronged pasta scoop.

“_Cas_.” Dean’s voice is soft and serious, and there’s something immediately calming about it. “_You know I’d never let anything happen to you_.”

He closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. “I know.”

“_Am I – Sam keeps telling me I’m being too pushy.” _There’s a moment’s pause where Castiel can perfectly picture the way Dean probably stopped to lick his lips or worry his bottom lip with his teeth. “_Am I pushing you too much about this?_”

Surprisingly, Castiel finds himself smiling as he dumps the water and puts the pot aside so he can peel the egg. “A little.” But he doesn’t mind. Pushing is what he needs, otherwise nothing is ever going to change and he’ll just keep on _existing_ in this house.

“_Oh._” Dean is quiet for several seconds before continuing in a smaller voice. “_You can tell me to fuck off at any time, y’know that, right?_”

Without taking his eyes off the egg as he peels it and cuts it in half, Castiel shakes his head with a smile because Dean just – He’s just a little cute sometimes. “I know.”

After another pause, Dean sighs loudly. “_Are you going to say more than two words to me at a time?_”

“Maybe.” Castiel’s smile grows.

Dean barks out a small, harsh laugh. “_That was just **one**!_”

He hums and spoons some of the broth into his bowl of noodles. “You can’t rush me, Dean. You can push, but I’ll only move as fast as I’m comfortable moving.”

“_I’m not **trying** to rush you._” Dean takes a whiny tone briefly before clearing his throat. “_I just – You’re **fun**, Cas. And I – I – I miss you?_”

What’s so fun about him? Castiel isn’t a very interesting person, and he doesn’t have much in the way of having stories to tell. And how can Dean _miss _him? “You haven’t even been gone a week.”

“_I **know**._” He groans loudly. “_This fucking sucks, Cas._”

“You just like being here because it’s like being on vacation.”

Dean sighs again, nearly as loud as before. “_Uh, no? It’s because we like hanging out with **you**._”

Castiel rolls his eyes. He refuses to believe that Dean and Sam like coming here because of _him_. There’s nothing special about him in the slightest. He’s boring and he likes spending all his time watching movies, reading books, and playing video games. That’s just about all they do together when Dean and Sam are here – not including all the cooking and cleaning.

It's a fairly domestic situation whenever the Winchesters visit. For someone whose job has him on the move all the time, Dean is quite the homebody. Maybe that’s what Dean likes so much about being here? Sure, he likes the open road, but is it enough to override his desire to have a home and take care of others?

Dean breaks him out of his thoughts by clearing his throat. “_What are you doing?_”

“Cooking.”

“_Holy shit._” It’s almost insulting that he sounds so surprised. “_Seriously_? _What are you making_?”

Castiel hums and stirs just a little bit of Sriracha sauce into the bowl. “I made Ramen.” And he quickly describes how he’s made it while adding the meat and egg into the broth. He didn’t have any green onions, so he’s skipping that step from the video.

Dean whistles lowly. “_That sounds awesome, Cas. I’m super proud of you._”

A little flare of heat in his chest warms his cheeks and Castiel ducks his head at the compliment. “It’s still just instant noodles.”

“_Yeah, but it’s a big step up from just nuking them in the microwave like I know you’ve been doing._” His tone turns teasing and it only exacerbates Castiel’s blush.

Rather than acknowledge that he’s just _that lazy_ when it comes to cooking, he clears his throat and opts for a quick change of topic. “So, what did you do with my feathers?”

The laugh that rumbles through the speakerphone sends a shiver racing through him from the top of his head to the tips of his feathers. “_Topic change, huh? Alright then. I put holes through the shafts of most of them and strung them up so they’re hanging above my bed._”

Delight and disappointment makes for a confusing mix and Castiel pauses in the process of carrying both his phone and his noodles to the dining table so he can eat. “I thought you wanted one of my feathers so badly because you wanted something to remember me by, but you’re not keeping them with you?”

“_Excuse you_.” Dean huffs. “_I kept one of the smaller ones to keep with me._” He takes a bit of a prideful tone. “_I made a necklace out of it_.”

Castiel almost trips over his own feet at the way his chest clenches. “You – You’re –” He swallows and sets his bowl down on the table. “You’re _wearing _it?”

“_In my downtime, yah_.” Dean hums to himself. “_I figure I’ll just leave it hanging on the mirror in the Impala when I’m on a hunt, otherwise it might get damaged. I suppose I could’ve done it the Sam way and make it into a bookmark, but – meh._” The shrug is audible in his voice. “_I think he’s actually using it right now. Ain’t’cha, Sammy?_”

A distant ‘_yup_’ answers him in the background, but it’s not Sam and his bookmark that has Castiel’s face growing hot. He’s honestly not sure if he’s embarrassed or pleased that Dean is apparently _wearing his feather_. It’s just – It’s rather intimate, isn’t it? Castiel never gave any thought to his feathers before, but now Dean is _wearing one_.

His wings are fluffing and shivering against his back, and that’s something they only do when he _likes_ something. What about this does he like? No one has ever _worn_ his feathers before. His parents used to just snatch them up and dispose of them right away. Even Aunt Amara and Anna do the same. It’s like they never even _think_ about keeping one for themselves. Throwing them out is just automatic.

But Dean, for some God-forsaken reason, actually _likes_ his wings. No one has ever liked them the way he does and it hasn’t yet failed at tripping Castiel up every time he realizes it. Because he _absolutely_ hasn’t forgotten about Dean’s almost-confession the day following his birthday. It’s been months and Castiel still remembers when Dean almost said that he liked him. There might be some part of him that is happy to hear that, but mostly he’s just _confused_. What reason is there for someone like Dean to _like_ him?

“_Cas? Buddy?_” Dean’s concerned tone crackles through the phone. “_You still there_?”

“I –” He sinks into a chair and swallows thickly. “Yes.”

Dean is eerily intuitive at the least opportune times. “_Is everything okay?_”

“I’m fine.”

But his voice is an octave higher than normal because Dean really does like him, doesn’t he? He’s wearing one of Castiel’s feathers, and he cooks for him, and he _misses him_. What in the world did he do that made Dean like him so much? It feels like he’s treated Castiel the same since the day they met and there’s no way Dean could have liked him from the very beginning, right? It’s just – It’s _baffling_.

And Castiel really needs to stop thinking about it or he’s going to think himself right into an anxiety attack if he doesn’t _stop _–

“_I guess your food is all ready, huh?_” Dean sounds strange too; cautious.

Castiel looks down at his noodles. “Yes?”

“_Cool. I’ll let you eat then, and we’ll talk more later_.” He still doesn’t sound quite right. It’s like he’s worried but doesn’t want to press the issue. “_Send me a picture of it. I want proof that you’re actually cooking edible food._”

Being teased for not cooking is a sense of normalcy that Castiel is happy to fall back on. “I will, Dean.” He picks up his phone to switch to camera mode to do just that.

“_Great! Looking forward to it._” There’s an audible grin in his voice, even if his tone isn’t quite even yet. “_I’ll see ya later, Cas._”

Castiel hums a goodbye and ends the call. He snaps a quick picture of his ramen before moving it out of the way and putting his phone aside. With a wheeze, he folds over and presses his forehead into the table top. Castiel grips the edge of the table and takes a minute to gather himself before he can bring himself to send the picture to Dean.

Now actually bringing himself to _eat_ is going to be a different matter.

* * *

** _Thursday – June 28th, 2018_ **

“Hold still.”

“I _am_ holding still.” Castiel closes his eyes and ensures that his wings are also spread. “Just spray me.”

He holds his breath as Dean coats him – feathers and all – in bug repellent. It’s annoying that he also has to get his wings done, and that he’s going to have to actually _wash_ them later or his feathers are going to feel weird, but he’d rather deal with that than mosquito bites. Castiel does _not _like to be itchy.

“Okay, done!” Dean shakes the can thoroughly as he opens the door to the kitchen and shouts back into the house. “Sammy, your turn!”

Since he has no interest in being around the _cloud_ of insect repellent that will result in spraying Sam down too, Castiel grabs the blanket draped over the deck railing and heads down the stairs. There’s a path of paving stones that leads to the garden, and another path to a small cement patio with a brick fire-pit at its center. Dean has already been outside and he’s set up three spaces for them to sit on the ground around it. The pillowed padding from a number of reclining lawn chairs has been artfully arranged around the patio – their frames still stored away in the shed.

Castiel shakes his blanket out before laying it over one of the collections of padding. He tucks the edges under and crawls onto it; settling on his belly with his arms crossed under his head. The way he positions himself is not quite facing the fire-pit and it gives him a good view of his father’s gardens. There are solar lights lining the edge of the flower beds, and it’s only by their light that he can really make out any of the flowers themselves.

It’s well and truly night time now. The sun has set and the sky is an inky black filled with the flickering pinpoints of stars. The moon hasn’t crested the trees yet, but it’s supposed to be a full moon tonight and Castiel is looking forward to seeing it in the small square of sky he can call his own.

When Dean and Sam join him, they each claim their own little island of chair pillows and covers them with their own blankets. Even though they could easily sit in _proper_ reclining deck chairs, they both opted to sit at the same level as Castiel. He hasn’t said anything regarding it, but it does make him feel all warm and gooey on the inside over how they take into consideration the fact that he can’t sit comfortably on most chairs because of his wings.

Of course it hasn’t escaped his notice that Dean not only set up the pillows in an odd grouping, but that he also claimed the spot directly next to his. Sam takes the one set up a little further away, and moves it just enough so he can face them. He sits cross legged on his pillow-blanket island while Dean stretches out on his back and tucks his hands behind his head.

“Hit it, Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes and leans forward with a hand outstretched. Concentration fills his face, but Castiel watches the wood in the fire-pit instead. It starts with one spark, then two, and then all of sudden flames flare to life and fill the pit. The flames engulf the wood, building quickly into the biggest bonfire Castiel has ever had in the backyard. He’s never been good at getting a fire going, and both Anna and Aunt Amara share that trait.

Aside from the crackling of the fire and the popping of the wood, there’s nothing but the crickets in the bushes for several minutes. Dean breaks the silence with a sigh. “The stars are nice out here.”

Castiel turns on his side, facing Dean, so he can look up at the sky. The full moon is peeking over the trees, but the fire is making it hard to see the rest of the stars. It’s only from experience that he’s able to agree. “It’s one of my favourite things about living out here.”

Dean hums a long, low note, before glancing at him. “The stars are nice in Sioux Falls too, y’know. Especially when we can convince Bobby to turn off all the lights he’s got around the compound.”

They haven’t even been back a full forty-eight hours, but Castiel is honestly impressed that it’s taken this long for Dean to bring that up again. “You sure do talk a lot about how nice Sioux Falls is.” The majority of the other times has been by text message when he’s comparing wherever they are on their hunt to Sioux Falls.

“Yeah, you’re not being very subtle there, Dean.”

Without looking, Dean flips his middle finger in the general direction of where Sam is sitting. When he tucks his hand back behind his head, it’s fairly obvious that he’s trying very hard not to look in Castiel’s direction. He can’t possibly be surprised that he’s been caught out in his scheme, can he? It was so _blatant _that even Anna caught on after just one mention of it.

Castiel sighs and turns back onto his stomach. He rests his chin on his crossed arms and watches the shadows of the fire dance across the flowers that he planted with Aunt Amara earlier in the season. It takes him a moment to realize the lights among the flowers aren’t sparks but fireflies. Those are always a treat and he smiles.

Maybe it’s because he’s in an _incredibly_ good mood, but Castiel doesn’t quite feel like letting this topic simply fade away. “I promised you that I would think about it, and I still am.”

In his peripherals, he can see Dean turn over onto his side to face him. “Yeah?”

“Don’t let him bully you into something that you don’t want to do, Cas.”

Dean sits up slightly, turning to glare at Sam. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I dunno.” Sam leans his elbows on his knees and props his chin in his hands. “You’re _really_ pushy when you want something.”

“I am not!”

Castiel hums and continues watching the fireflies. “You kind of are.”

Dean gasps and lays a hand on his chest, turning back to Castiel with a look as if he had slapped him. “Am I really?”

Without changing his position too much, Castiel holds up a hand with his index and thumb about a half-inch apart. “Just a little bit.”

A pout fills Dean’s voice and he flops onto his back again. He arms crossed over his chest as he sulks. “I’m not _trying_ to be.”

“I know you’re not.” Castiel crosses his arms again and tucks his face into his elbow to try and hide his smile. It’s nice to have the boys back. He missed the teasing conversations like this and how easy it is to rile Dean up.

After a long pause, Dean sighs. “I’ll stop asking.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t mind.” In fact, Castiel _likes_ knowing that Dean wants him around. It makes his feathers feel all tingly and a warm heat settles comfortably in his chest every time. He might not understand _why_ Dean likes him so much, but it’s nice to know he’s wanted. “Talking up Sioux Falls is helping your case.”

Dean’s head pops up so suddenly that Castiel’s wings flap slightly in surprise. “It _is_?”

To answer, Castiel holds his hand up again. “Just a little bit.”

Sam muffles a snort of laughter behind his hand and drops backwards to stretch out across his blanket too. Castiel can’t help but wonder if he’s got his antenna on and if Sam is aware of how much he enjoys having them around.

Aside from the occasional muffled giggle from Sam’s blanket island, no one else breaks the silence for a long time. In the heat of the fire and the calming sounds of the outdoors, Castiel is actually comfortable enough to close his eyes. He could happily fall asleep like this.

But Dean shatters the quiet again with a soft question. “Did we ever tell you that Pam is also an unregistered mutant? A class five to boot.”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to lift his head quickly and he looks at Dean sharply. “She _is_?” He never doubted that there would be others out there like Sam, but what are the odds that they would find another? “What are her abilities?”

“Psychic with a fun sprinkling of telepathy to make it exciting.” Dean tilts his head to flash him a grin in the firelight. “So you gotta know that they’re _extra_ good at keeping secrets back home.”

That’s on a scarier level than Sam’s ability to actually control one of the elements. Sam and Pamela are the kinds of mutants that the government fears the most. _The Facility_ would have them under lock and key for eternity, if not just – just _erasing _them entirely. It’s honestly _terrifying_ and the fact that she’s been living in Sioux Falls and working at the school for as long as she has without being found out is – Well, it’s certainly a big point in favour of Dean’s argument in trying to get Castiel out there.

He settles back down on his stomach with a soft exhale. “Wow.”

“Yeah. I was terrified of her for years before I learned that she won’t touch another person’s mind without their permission.” Dean chuckles softly, almost wistfully. “Of course it didn’t help that I was just discovering the joys of masturbation at that point, and she is _smokin_’ –”

Thankfully, Sam clears his throat loudly at that point and Dean cuts himself off with a cough. “Uh, well, yeah. Y’know what I mean.”

Something curls in the pit of Castiel’s stomach at that. He doesn’t say anything to further the conversation; instead focusing on analyzing the dark ooze pooling in his belly. He’s so focused on his own thoughts that he has no idea what Dean and Sam start talking about next. Even less so when he realizes that it’s _jealousy_ twisting up inside of him.

A frown pulls down the corners of his mouth once he’s able to find a word for the feeling. But what in the world does he have to be _jealous _about? The fact that Dean had an attraction to someone Castiel has never even met back when he was a teenager? That’s just – It’s just – _Ridiculous_. His own emotions have never made less sense to him.

“Hey, Cas?” Sam pulls him from his thoughts. “What’s your favourite constellation?”

He has absolutely no idea how they ended up on the topic of astronomy, but he’s more than happy to devote himself to that – and to join in the discussion of whether or not there’s other life out there in the universe. It's a very welcome distraction.

* * *

They’ve been outside for well over an hour and the fire has burned down twice now, having been topped up with more wood by Sam, when Dean takes notice of Castiel’s wings. “Hey, you’ve got a feather sticking out funny.” He holds out both of his hands and wiggles his fingers. “Stretch it over here and I’ll fix it for you.”

The feather was probably tweaked funny when Castiel brushed his wing against the ground trying to get comfortable a short while ago. But is there _really_ a feather out of place, or is Dean just trying to find an excuse to touch his wings again? Castiel squints at him in the firelight, trying to see if he can tell if he’s lying just by looking at him.

By this point in the night, Dean has bunched part of his blanket up under his head into a deformed kind of pillow. He looks half asleep right now; eyes hooded and body loose. He keeps making weak grabby motions at Castiel’s wing, but he appears to be losing hope. It’s entirely within Castiel’s right to say ‘_no_’, because he’s still not used to people touching his wings, but – Well, he _has_ been making a concerted effort to push his boundaries more.

Every time the Winchesters drop in for a visit, he does his best to try and be more comfortable around them. It’s been his logic that maybe the more comfortable he is with them, the more likely he is to eventually accept the offer to go with them.

With a sigh, he stretches his wing out and gently drapes it across Dean’s chest. The moment he does, Dean goes still and his eyes go wide. Any trace of sleepiness is long gone as he wheezes softly. “Really?”

Castiel closes his eyes and tucks his face into the crook of his elbow. “Do it before I change my mind.”

Dean certainly wastes no time after that. He’s overly gentle as he starts carding his fingers through the feathers. Castiel notes, absently, that there was a feather out of place. He can feel when it’s fixed. Dean hesitates after he’s finished what he’s accomplished, but when Castiel doesn’t move his wing, he slowly starts again.

It actually feels pretty good and Castiel hums as he closes his eyes. “Feels nice.”

“That’s good.” Dean has a smile in his voice as he pets through the softer, fluffier feathers on the underside of his wing. “I’ve – uh – I’ve been reading up on how birds take care of their wings, and what we can do to help ‘em.”

Castiel cracks an eye open and tilts his head enough to look at him. “Have you now?”

“Yeah, I was bored and reading random Wikipedia articles. You know how it is. One leads to another, and eventually you’re reading up on shit you’d never thought you’d be reading up on.” He shrugs and strokes a hand along the edge of his wing.

Sam snorts loudly and Castiel catches the tail end of an eye roll when he glances at him. “Sure you did.”

Dean frowns up at the stars, but otherwise ignores him. “_Anyway_, did you know that most birds have this kind of gland thing that makes oil, and they use it to preen their wings. It helps keep their feathers clean, shiny, and in most cases kinda helps make them waterproof. It’s pretty interesting.”

A familiar and wholly unpleasant sensation turns in Castiel’s stomach at the mention of oil glands and he swallows against the rising lump in his throat. “Yes, I know.”

“Kinda made me wonder if you had something like that?” Dean probably doesn’t mean anything by it, but it still feels like an ice cube slides down Castiel’s spine. Because he takes too long to answer, Dean props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at him. “You do, don’t you?”

Castiel tucks his face even further into the crook of his arm. He pulls his wing free from Dean’s hands and folds them both tightly against his back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

There’s silence only for a few beats before Dean curses. “Shit. This is going to be one of those topics that we’re probably going to end up arguing about, isn’t it?” At least he keeps his voice soft. “It leads back to your hating your wings thing, doesn’t it?”

“It’s _weird_.” Castiel hisses, his mood quickly souring. “They’re _disgusting_.”

“Your wings aren’t _disgusting_, Cas.” The blanket rustles as Dean sits up. “They’re really pretty and super awesome. I really like them.”

That’s only because he’s not the one afflicted by them. “You would hate them too if you had to touch –” Castiel grimaces. “_Those_.”

“Your oil glands?” Sam cautiously enters the conversation and it is _not_ helping matters.

Castiel hunches his shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Dean must look like he’s going to continue on the topic, because it sounds like Sam sits up too. “Dean –”

He only gets his name out before Dean interrupts. “It’s okay, Sam.” There’s more rustling and then Castiel feels a gentle hand on his arm. “And it’s okay, Cas. I’ll let it go and I’m not gonna ask about it again. But if you ever want to talk about them, or show them, or even if you need a hand with your wings, I’ll be here.”

Why? _Why_? Castiel just doesn’t _get it_. The thought of touching his oil glands makes him sick to his stomach. He only ever touches them when he absolutely has to, and that’s when they get swollen and sore. But Dean is so – Why? Why does he like Castiel’s wings so much? Is Dean’s perceived affection for him actually just because of his wings? Sam called it a kink. Is Dean just fetishizing his wings or does he actually like _him_?

He certainly likes his wings enough to read up on how to properly care for them.

It just doesn’t make _sense_. And it doesn’t make sense at how it makes his insides go all wobbly whenever Dean praises his wings, or when he touches them, or even when he just watches them like he does when he thinks Castiel doesn’t notice.

Are his wings the reason that Dean talks to him like he’s the greatest person to ever exist? That’s yet another thing Castiel can’t comprehend. He’s nothing impressive. He’s just _him_.

But the touch on his arm doesn’t let up. It’s soft, warm, and strangely reassuring. Castiel readjusts how his arms are crossed just so he can brush his fingers over the back of Dean’s hand. He feels how the grip tightens briefly before Dean turns his hand over to catch his and gives it a squeeze. The contact is painfully brief before Dean is withdrawing his hand and something _swoops_ through Castiel’s stomach because he doesn’t want that touch to go away.

Every time the Winchesters are here, Dean pushes his boundaries over and over again. For instance, when they’re on the couch together, he’s always touching Castiel in some way. Usually it’s just Dean’s feet across his lap, or his toes tucked under his thighs. Last night was the first time that Dean put his _head_ on Castiel’s lap. There was a pillow between them, but the only reason that Castiel allowed it was because Dean was _exhausted_ from driving all day – and had promptly fallen asleep not even a few minutes later.

Castiel won’t admit it out loud, but he kind of likes it.

But Dean is drawing away and settling back in the middle of his little blanket-pillow island. He can feel Sam’s eyes on them, waiting to see what’s going to happen next. Castiel feels like he ruined the moment and he wracks his brain for a way to fix it.

The answer is fairly obvious, even though it makes his cheeks burn.

He holds his breath and spreads his wing back out over Dean again. There are two sharp intakes of breath at the gesture, but no one speaks. Hesitant fingers brush along the edge of his wing before they start combing through his feathers with confidence. Castiel sighs softly, because it really does feel nice – much nicer than he ever thought it would be. It helps to soothe his ruffled edges.

What helps further is when Sam decides to change the conversation – or lack thereof - to _The Walking Dead_. He has _a lot_ of predictions about the ninth season starting later this year. Castiel isn’t that big of a fan of the show, but Dean and Sam are avid watchers. Dean is _very_ outspoken about his opinions regarding plot lines and character arcs – opinions that he launches into the moment Sam starts saying something he doesn’t agree with.

A heated argument that amounts to nothing more than brotherly bickering fills the night, but Castiel is more than happy to have someone else doing the talking. He needs the distraction and it’s strangely comforting to listen to.

* * *

** _Wednesday – July 4th, 2018_ **

The leather seat squeaks under him, but it doesn’t stop Castiel from continuing to shift nervously. His fingers keep twitching as he unbuttons and buttons his coat up over and over again. He even has the sash done up and tied tightly to ensure that no wind – no matter how strong – will make it flap open.

Anna reaches across the seat to take one of his hands in hers. She squeezes it tightly. “It’s okay. It’s just fireworks.”

Castiel takes a deep breath through his nose and it hisses out between his teeth. “I _know_ it’s okay.” He really does. It’s just something _new_ and that always sends his anxiety through the roof. That said, he grips her hand as hard as he dares. Castiel takes another deep breath and looks out the window at the buildings sliding past. “How was the rest of the festival?”

“The music was good.” Dean briefly glances at him in the rear-view mirror before focusing more on where they’re going with twists and turns up one street and down the next; looking for a parking spot. “And the food was tasty. Those mini-doughnuts we brought back for you was just the tip of the iceberg.”

“_Maria the Mexican_ was a really interesting band.” Sam turns in his seat to look into the backseat. “It was like a fusion of Mexican Mariachi and rock music. I recorded some of it on my phone. Do you want to see it?”

He jerks his head in what’s supposed to be an approximation of a nod. “That would be nice.”

Sam fiddles with his phone for a few moments before passing it to Castiel. Anna leans over so she can watch the shaky video too. Dean hums along with the tune that comes across mostly as noise through the recording.

The video is actually long enough that it’s still playing by the time the Impala comes to a stop. Dean grunts as he puts the car in park. “Alrighty, friends and family. We’re going to have to hoof it from here.” He turns too, his smile soft. “You ready, Cas?”

No, he’s not, but he’s been working himself up to this all day. His anxiety kept him at home instead of going with Anna, Aunt Amara, and the Winchesters to the Fourth of July celebrations being hosted at _Burcham Park_. It was decided that they wouldn’t push him to go to that as long as he would go to the fireworks show in the evening.

Which brings them to here. Anna takes Castiel’s hand again once they’re all grouped on the sidewalk together. It’s not quite full dark yet, but there are still a number of people around. Most appear to be making their way towards the general area of the fireworks show. There are less people than Castiel expected, though the majority are likely already there since the show will be starting shortly.

Dean specifically planned the trip so that they would be getting here _right _before the show would start, thus ensuring they would be one of the last to arrive and likely go unnoticed. They won’t be going to the best spot at _Burcham Park_ where the actual festival went down. Aunt Amara had stayed behind to stake out a spot on the _Vermont Street Bridge_ for them. The bridge is a bit of a ways down the river from the festivities, but it should still have a good view of the fireworks.

Hopefully there aren’t a lot of other people who have the same idea. There are much better spots along the riverbank that would be better to watch from.

Regardless, Castiel still feels _intensely_ uneasy as he allows Anna to drag him down the sidewalk; the Winchesters following close behind. He’s never gone to the Fourth of July celebrations in _Lawrence _before. Castiel is wearing his coat and his wings are bound, so he _should_ be okay. This is no different than when he goes to the grocery store. There might even be less people involved, depending on where they end up on the bridge.

Castiel has reminded himself of this at least fifty times today, and twenty of those were after he was picked up less than a half hour ago. It will be okay. _It will be okay. _He counts every breath in, forcing himself not to _freak out_ as they head up _Vermont Street_ towards the bridge.

“You doing good, Cas?” Dean falls into step next to him and his fingers catch at his wrist.

“I’m fine.” He exhales a slow, shuddering breath and tries for a shaky smile. “I’m _fine_.”

Dean smiles back, big and proud. His hand drops as he slows to walk with Sam again, but a little flare of ‘_no!_’ zings through Castiel’s chest. He twists his hand to catch Dean’s and squeezes it tightly. For whatever reason, Dean brings him comfort and that’s something he needs _a lot_ right now. He has no idea when that started to happen, but he’s certainly glad for it in this moment.

Apparently grabbing his hand is enough to cause Dean to stumble slightly. He picks up his pace almost immediately to fall into step next him. Castiel can feel him staring, but he keeps his eyes firmly locked ahead; scanning the crowd for Aunt Amara. The bridge is in sight and they should hopefully be seeing her soon.

For a moment, Castiel half thinks that Dean will pull his hand away. Instead, Dean adjusts his grip and squeezes his fingers.

He drops his voice into a whisper so soft that Castiel almost misses it. “I’ve got you.”

“I know.”

They find Aunt Amara waiting for them at the end of the bridge. There are more people crammed together on the sidewalk along the bridge than Castiel expected, but Aunt Amara has managed to stake out a claim along the railing. She has two coats draped along it and she’s shooing people away if they try and get too close to her area. When she spots their little group approaching, she waves them over.

One of the coats Castiel recognizes as belonging to his aunt. The second, he realizes, must be Sam’s – considering that he picks it up and puts it on. Sam pats the center place of their space at the railing. “You should stand here, Cas. I’ll stand behind you.”

He doesn’t vocalize the part where he would be blocking Castiel’s back from prying eyes, but it’s heard loud and clear. Castiel gives him a weak, but thankful smile and steps up to the rail. Anna takes her place at his right, while Dean stands at his left – still holding his hand. Aunt Amara is just a scant few inches taller than Anna, but she positions herself behind her, and also partially behind Castiel.

“How are you holding up, sweetheart?” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss Castiel on the cheek over his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“Everything okay.” He nods and let’s go of Anna’s hand so he can pass his aunt her coat.

Aunt Amara hums. “Good. Let us know if it gets too much for you.” She settles back with one hand on his shoulder and the other on Anna’s.

True to his word, Sam stands mostly behind Castiel. Between him and Aunt Amara, Castiel doesn’t feel so worried about his back being on full display. But he doesn’t even really have a chance to think about it, because Dean is standing_ so_ much closer than necessary – pressing their shoulders together while excitedly checking his watch.

The first whistling crack of a firework causes Castiel to flinch and he jerks his head up to watch how the light ripples across the sky. It’s so much louder than he thought it would be, especially as the second launches and the bang echoes across the river. The last time he saw fireworks in person was before his wings grew in. It’s been _decades_.

A third firework launches and when it explodes it crackles across the sky in wiggling lines that end in their own pops, showering sparks down into the river. Castiel can’t help the gasp that escapes him and he leans forward to grab the railing. Another firework rockets up, and then another, coming faster now and painting the dark water and trees in a variety of colours.

Castiel is transfixed. He’s been transported away to a loud, colourful world void of anyone else except the four people standing around him.

Dean’s voice is suddenly in his ear as he presses against his side. “Enjoying yourself?”

Castiel turns his head to give him a wide smile, only to find that Dean has his phone in his hand, camera angled towards him. Dean laughs and turns it around to show the picture he’d just taken. The photo is lit by the fireworks, and Anna and Aunt Amara are caught in the background, both smiling as they watch the show with a look of wonder. The Castiel smiling back at him from the screen of Dean’s phone almost doesn’t even look like him. It’s been a long time since he’s seen himself look _that_ happy.

Anna taps at his shoulder and Castiel turns to find her with her phone out too. She wiggles his eyebrows, as if that counts as a question. Dean must understand what she’s asking, because he lets go of Castiel’s hand to press in behind him as close as he dares. He loops one arm over his shoulder and hooks his chin over the other. Sam squeezes into the frame too and Anna nods once before taking her picture.

“No more!” Castiel calls over the _boom_ of a particularly large firework. He shakes his head and points at the fireworks when Anna pouts. They’re here for the show, not a photo shoot.

Dean finds his hand when they’re all facing forward again. His fingers are hesitant when they slide along his palm. Castiel doesn’t really _need_ any comforting right now, but he still allows it and closes his fingers around Dean’s. The hesitation is gone in an instant and Dean squeezes back – right before leaning into him. After a moment, Castiel shifts his weight so he can lean into him too. And then Dean drops his head to rest it against his shoulder and –

It's nice. _Really_ nice.

* * *

The firework show is done by ten o’clock. Anna and Aunt Amara’s apartment block is less than ten minutes up _West 6th Street_, so they said their goodbyes and split up at the bridge after the show. It was only a half an hour, but it was perfect and Castiel is riding an adrenaline high as he walks back to the car with the Winchesters.

Dean is still holding his hand as he chats excitedly about the Fourth of July show that he and Sam went to last year. It was in _Washington, D.C._ and was apparently _huge_. Sam interjects every now and then, but his overall opinion seems to be that he liked tonight’s better.

“Remember that time I took you into that clearing way back behind Bobby’s place?” Dean glances back over his shoulder while they walk. “And we set off all those fireworks in it? We even had those hand-rockets and you jumped around like you were part monkey.”

Sam sighs, but there’s a distinct note of fondness in his voice. “Yes, I remember. I also remember that I had to put out the fire that _you_ started because you dropped your sparkler.”

Dean ducks his head and bumps his shoulder with Castiel’s. “Don’t ever make a mistake, Cas. Sammy will never let you forget it.”

Castiel snorts and shakes his head. “To be fair, _you’re_ the one who brought it up.”

“He speaks!” Dean perks right back up again, his smile big and bright. “I thought you were going to play at being mute until we got you back to the safety of the Impala – or, y’know, your house.”

He shrugs and gives Dean’s hand a squeeze. “I enjoyed myself.”

“That’s good.” Sam falls into step on his other side. “You seemed a little mad earlier when Dean was trying to talk you into coming.”

“I was never mad.” He shakes his head and turns a reassuring smile on Dean. “Just nervous.”

Dean bobs his head in a nod. “Well, now you know that it’s no different than going to the grocery store or the graveyard.”

Castiel hums and glances around at all the other people making their way to their cars and homes. “There’s definitely more people than the graveyard.”

“Debatable.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “More _alive_ people, Sam.”

Dean snorts next to him before doubling over with giggles. Sam is doing a poor job of masking his own laughter and Castiel is very tempted to leave them both and find the Impala on his own. But that turns out not to be necessary because they’re only a few cars away from it.

Instead of taking the front seat like he usually does, Sam opens the back door. Castiel raises an eyebrow, but only gets a shrug in response to his confusion. Sam even gestures at the passenger seat, as if that’s enough to say that he should be the one to take it. This is made all the more obvious by how Dean opens the door for him.

“My, what a gentleman.” Castiel murmurs. If they want him to sit in the front seat, who is he to argue with them?

“Only for you, Cas.” Dean winks and waits to shut the door for him once he’s seated.

Sam is grinning when Castiel glances back at him, and for the life of him he has no idea why.

The drive back home is lively and full of laughter as Dean and Sam swap firework stories and shenanigans that they’ve either experienced themselves or seen elsewhere. Castiel doesn’t really have anything to contribute himself, but he’s happy just to listen.

It's a nice drive, even if his hand feels strangely cold and empty the whole ride.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Saturday – July 7th, 2018_ **

A hum reverberates against Castiel’s thigh as Dean slowly wakes himself up. Regardless, he continues running his fingers through Dean’s hair. He’s been asleep for the last few episodes of some weird mockumentary about aliens. It hasn’t been _that_ interesting, but it’s something to watch and Sam seems to be into it.

As soon as Dean starts stirring, Sam’s attention turns from the show to the couch. He even turns the volume down a few notches so it’s not as loud. It wasn’t that loud to begin with, since they’ve been very quiet when they realized that Dean had fallen asleep.

“That feels nice.” Dean’s words are slurred into a sleepy rumble as he stretches out down the couch.

Castiel looks down to find him looking up at him through sleep-lidded eyes. Dean looks so soft and comfortable. Clearly he no longer has any reservations about being physically close – like putting his head in Castiel’s lap. He’s done it a number of times now, though this is the first time he’s fallen asleep, and the first time that Castiel petted him. For over an hour and a half, no less!

“The feeling is roughly the same as when you’re running your fingers through my feathers.” To accentuate his point, he rakes his nails across Dean’s scalp.

This elicits a full body shiver and, surprisingly, Dean’s eye’s flutter slightly. He muffles a quiet noise in the back of his throat and turns fully onto his back. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Castiel does it again, amused by how it makes him squirm.

Dean holds up one hand and gives his fingers a lazy wiggle. “You want a wing massage as thanks? I’d be down for it. I promise I won’t even try and figure out where your oil glands are.”

Ah-_hah_. Castiel knew it was only a matter of time before Dean brought those up again. He can promise to high heaven that he’ll leave something alone, but that’s just not in his nature. Because this was expected, Castiel has been preparing himself for this.

Despite that, his voice still cracks slightly when he speaks. “My –They – They’re at the base of my wings. One under each joint.” Castiel keeps his eyes firmly locked on the TV so he doesn’t have to look at either of the Winchesters. “They’re roughly the size of a walnut, but they double in size and hurt a lot when they’re swollen with oil. I have to –”

He pauses and wrinkles his nose at the memories. God, he hates even just _thinking_ about them. “I have to –” Castiel frowns and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, because he _can_ tell them this. He’s been working up to it since the night they made the bonfire in the backyard. “I have to _milk_ them every now and then.”

A moment of silence follows before Sam clears his throat. “How often do you groom your wings?”

“Never.” He shakes his head and stops petting Dean’s hair, if only so he doesn’t notice how his hand has started shaking. “At least not the way I’m probably supposed to.”

That has Dean sitting up sharply and twisting to face him. “_What_?”

Castiel shrugs and hunches forward. “I hate touching them, so I never –” He had a pillow tucked between his wings to make it easier to lean back against the couch, but now his wings curl forward around his shoulders. “Honestly, I’m surprised my feathers aren’t just falling out all the time for how little maintenance I give them.”

Dean makes a pained noise and Castiel is aware that he reaches out for him in his peripherals, but he doesn’t touch. “Cas, c’mon man, you’ve gotta take better care of yourself than that.” His voice is soft, though chastising.

“I know.” And he does. He _really _does, but – Castiel crosses his arms over his stomach and drags his feet up onto the couch. “I want to throw up every time I touch the glands.” He glances at Dean, willing him to understand from that alone.

The Winchesters share a look before Dean turns back to him. He looks torn as he licks his bottom lip. “What –” Dean pauses and visibly swallows. “What if someone else did it?”

While that should have been expected, Castiel is still slightly thrown by the question. He narrows his eyes in a frown. “You just want to touch my wings, but you don’t get how _gross_ it is.” He shudders and tries not to gag just thinking about it. “The oil is slick and it gets everywhere. It’s just –”

“Sounds like lube.” Dean interrupts with a bit of a slanted smile. “I’m no stranger to that shit. It’s _always _slick and slippery. Your oil can’t be that different.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Lube comes from a _bottle_. This comes from _me_, and it’s – it’s disgusting.”

“It’s okay, Cas.” This time Dean does touch, but it’s just a comforting hand cupping his elbow as he scoots a little closer on the couch. “If you don’t want anyone touching them, that’s okay. I’m not going to push you about them and you never even have to show them to me if you don’t want to.”

The worst thing about all of this is that some small, yet very vocal, part of him _does_ want to show Dean. It’s absolutely terrifying to even think about it, but Castiel wants to be more open with him – _closer_ with him. That vocal voice is loud and nagging in the back of his head and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore. One of these days he’s going to give in to it, and then what?

Even though he knows it will be okay, Castiel can’t bear the thought that maybe Dean will find these aspects of his body just as disgusting as he does.

God, but he needs a distraction _right now_. He’s going to either make himself sick or put himself right into a panic attack if they keep talking about his oil glands – or if Dean keeps _looking_ at him like that. All soft eyes and warm smile, like everything is just fine and it’s all in Castiel’s head. It is, to an extent, but that’s all part of _thinking about it_ and he doesn’t want to do that anymore.

Castiel takes a deep breath and looks up from where he’s been inspecting the creases in his sweatpants where they fold around his knees. “Can I –” He glances first to Sam and then to Dean. “Can I ask about something that you’ve previously gotten mad about? _Without_ you getting mad about it?”

Dean’s expression falters slightly; his smile vaguely tilting into a frown as he raises one eyebrow. “That depends. What do you want to ask about?”

If they don’t want to talk about it right now, Castiel will completely understand. He might not think it fair, given that he just bared a piece of himself that he’s never even told Anna or Aunt Amara about, but he’ll understand.

He swallows around the lump sitting thick in his throat and looks at Sam. “I’ve been wondering – You, um, you said that you think your dad left because of you.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Dean goes still next to him and his hand drops from his elbow. Regardless, Castiel perseveres. “You said you think it’s your fault that your mom is – Why? You never explained _why_ you think that.”

And it’s something that’s been bothering him for _months_. Castiel is nothing if not patient and he’s been sitting on this curiosity ever since Dean’s birthday. Mostly it’s because he didn’t want to have to deal with Dean yelling again. He _still_ stings over that ‘_stranger_’ comment, despite it long since being water under the bridge.

When he looks again, Dean is frowning heavily at Sam, almost as if he’s daring him to say anything. Sam, however, is very pointedly no longer looking at either of them. He’s focused on the TV, despite how the episode they were watching has ended and it was apparently the last episode of the season since Netflix selection screen is the only thing showing.

The silence drags on for a long time before Sam runs a hand through his hair and slumps a little further in the recliner. “I’m – uh – I don’t think I should talk about it when Dean’s around. He gets, well –” His point is made with a simple gesture back towards the couch.

Castiel tries not to be disappointed. This is about what he expected. He sighs and hugs his knees to his chest. “I’m sorry. I was just wondering.” He rests his chin on his knees and glances at Dean. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Even though he _knew_ this was how they were going to react.

Dean takes a _deep_ breath and closes his eyes. He lets it out slowly and sinks back into the couch in a controlled kind of way. “No, it’s fine, because Sam is _not_ the reason that mom died. _Right_, Sammy?”

“Right.” Sam shrugs and looks down at his hands where they’re curled in his lap. “I just – It’s a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

A dark expression passes over Dean’s face and he crosses his arms tightly over his chest. “It’s not. You presented _three months_ later.”

The puzzle pieces click so suddenly that it feels like whiplash when the full picture comes together. Castiel can’t help himself when he actually gasps and lifts his head. “Oh. _Oh_. Did she – Did your mom –?”

“She died in a house fire.” Sam’s voice is small, quiet. His head is bowed as he seems to shrink in on himself. “Dad got me and Dean out, but he couldn’t get to mom in time.” One shoulder twitches in the barest approximation of a shrug. “It was rough, afterwards, but he was a great dad. He worked hard to take care of us on his own for those three months until I had an – an – _episode_.”

Dean rubs a hand over his face and sighs loudly. “Dad couldn’t afford another house like we used to have.” He drops his head back against the couch and glares up at the ceiling. “The apartment we ended up getting was fine, but it was just a two bedroom. Sam and I had to share a room for the first time ever. It was – it was a _lot_ of change. We lost basically everything, and our _mom_.”

He rocks his head to the side. Just enough to give Castiel a sad, almost defeated look. “Sammy was only eight. It was a lot for a kid to deal with and he just snapped one day.”

“I presented during a tantrum.” Sam supplies the next part of the story with a weary kind of tone. “I was upset about who-knows-what, but things started flying around the room. Shit didn’t hit the fan until those things started catching on _fire_.”

As if to accentuate his point, one of the candles on the coffee table starts levitating. Sam uses his telekinetic powers so rarely here that Castiel almost forgot that he had them. The candle rolls around in the air a few times before it sets down back in its holder.

“Dad whisked us off to Sioux Falls shortly after that.” With a simple blink, a flame flickers to life on the wick. “He though Pam might be able to help me get a hold of my abilities since hers are all mental based like mine.”

Dean sits forward suddenly enough to startle Castiel hard enough that he flinches. “Your abilities and what happened to mom are nothing more than a _coincidence_.”

Sam runs his hands through his hair again, this time more aggressively. “But what if I had a nightmare or something, Dean?” He curls forward until his elbows are on his knees. “What if I actually presented in the middle of the night and _I’m_ the reason the house –”

“Nope. Not possible.” Dean shakes his head. “It’s been _sixteen years_, Sam, and you have _never_ set something on fire while you’re sleeping. And you’ve sure as shit had nightmares in that time.”

That doesn’t stop Sam from continuing to draw in on himself. He’s such a large man and yet he looks so _small_ right now. Castiel regrets ever asking. He should have known better, especially since he knows how depressed Sam can get when he thinks about what happened to their mother.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel’s wings curl over his shoulders as he ducks his head. He’s not about to have a panic attack, but he feels worse than before. “It was insensitive of me to ask about this. I’m sorry.”

Dean huffs loudly and rocks to his feet. “No, it’s okay. You _should_ know. You should know so when he starts being an idiot and thinking it was his fault again, you can remind him that it _wasn’t_.”

Yes, that’s right. Now Castiel knows a part of their past. It may have been insensitive to ask, but at least he can now be support for Sam in the future. He didn’t know the exact cause before, but maybe knowing it now will only make it easier to help. He’ll just keep thinking that in the hopes that it might make him feel _less_ bad about asking in the first place.

“I’m sure it was just a terrible coincidence, Sam.” Castiel tries for a smile, but it’s probably not as nice comforting as he wants it to be.

Sam’s mouth twists in a little half smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I’m putting this conversation to an end.” Dean rolls his shoulders and heads for the kitchen. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m in the mood for some goddamn _snacks_.” He pauses only long enough to ruffle Sam’s hair on his way past.

Castiel lowers his feet to the floor again. “Dean, it’s almost dinner time.”

“Well fuck me, really?” He stops in the doorway to the kitchen and pulls out his phone to check the time. “Shit, how long did you guys let me sleep? Both of you had better get in here and help with cooking if you want to eat tonight.”

This is just another way for Dean to try and distract them all from their own sad thoughts, but it’s certainly appreciated.

He stands at the same time that Sam does, but stops him with a hand on his arm. So Dean doesn’t hear them, Castiel steps in and keeps his voice quiet. “I really don’t believe that it was your fault”

Sam’s small smile is a little more genuine this time. “I know.”

Castiel hesitates for a moment before drawing him into a short hug. It’s not quite the same as hugging Dean, but it’s still nice. Sam hugs him tightly and gives a solid pat to his shoulder as they pull apart.

His smile is just that little bit wider afterwards. “Thank you.”

While he still feels bad for asking in the first place, Castiel is happy to know that he can now be there for his friend when he needs him in the future.

* * *

** _Sunday – July 8th, 2018_ **

Castiel jerks awake with a snort and the flap of wings. He twists upright and blinks around his dark bedroom, his brain sluggish with trying to figure out what woke him. The pale back-light of his alarm clock shows that it’s after two o’clock in the morning and he’s been solidly asleep for nearly five hours.

Before he can even try to start deciding if he should settle down and try to get back to sleep, or if he should get up and maybe use the bathroom or find out if there was something specific that woke him up – it’s all decided for him. Castiel is wide awake in a heartbeat at the sound of a muffled cry in the other room. In hindsight, the light in the hallway should have been a big hint.

He throws the blankets off and has the door open in a few short seconds. The door to the spare bedroom is wide open and he can hear small whimpering noises before he even crosses the hall. Sam is standing at the edge of the bed and he glances over his shoulder with a grim expression. He’s obscuring most of Dean, but Castiel can still tell from just being able to see his legs that he’s twisting and turning, tangling the sheets around himself.

It’s the _sounds_ that Dean’s making that have his feet moving on autopilot. Castiel crosses the room and is reaching out before he even realizes it. Sam stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Don’t. He’s having a nightmare and he’s prone to reacting poorly.”

A particular painful whimper has Castiel’s feathers rustling uncomfortable. “But he’s –”

“He punched me in the face when I tried to wake him up from a nightmare once.” Sam rubs a hand over his jaw, as if the phantom pain still lingers.

Castiel clutches his hands to his chest to keep himself from reaching out again. “What can we do?” He can’t stand the way Dean’s face is twisted – in pain or fear, he can’t tell. Whatever it is, the nightmare must be intense and there _has_ to be something they can do for him.

Sam shakes his head and lays a heavy hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “The best we can do is wait for him to wake up.”

And just let him _suffer_? That sounds like a horrible idea and Castiel shakes his head. “What if he doesn’t wake up on his own? What if he just stays stuck in the nightmare until it ends?”

“He will.” Sam offers a small, strained smile. “This isn’t the first time he’s had a nightmare and it won’t be the last.” The smile falls as he looks down at Dean again. “I hate to say it, but he usually has them whenever we get on the topic of what happened to mom. Dean saw a lot more of the fire than I did and he – I think he heard mom screaming. He’s never said anything, but –” He shrugs.

Castiel looks up sharply, a coil of guilt wrapping around his heart. “Then why didn’t you _stop me_ from asking about it earlier? It was bad enough that I upset _you_ and now –” And now Dean’s suffering too and it’s _his fault_. And what about every other time that this topic came up but they just _ignored_ it? Has Dean had nightmares then too and Castiel just slept through all of it?

The grip Sam has on his shoulder tightens. “Cas, we _wanted_ you to know. We just – we never really knew how to bring it up. You just took the guesswork out of it, okay?”

But still Castiel isn’t settled. He shifts on his feet and watches as Dean kicks and whines. It’s when he sees actually_ tears_ that it starts getting hard to breathe. Castiel can’t just _stand _here and watch his best friend be in pain like this.

He shrugs Sam’s hand off his shoulder and takes a deep breath. Before Sam can stop him, he leans over the bed and grabs Dean’s wrists. The touch doesn’t seem to wake him, but Dean kicks harder and starts to struggle. Castiel puts a knee on the edge of the bed to steady himself and he taps into the strength he so rarely uses. He forces Dean’s arms to cross over his chest and uses them to pin him down – just in case he tries to sit up suddenly.

Once his arms are secured, Castiel throws a leg over Dean’s hips and settles across his thighs. It’s not enough to fully stop him from kicking, but it helps slow him down a little bit.

“Holy shit.” Sam leans over next to him, hands hovering in the air as if he’s not sure if he should help or not. “You’ve really got him pinned?”

“I do.” Castiel nods and leans forward slightly, making sure to stay out of head-butting range. “Dean?” He keeps his voice soft and soothing. “Dean, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

Sam finally settles on what he can do and he slides a hand through Dean’s hair. “Hey, c’mon, Dean. Time to wake up.”

It takes a little bit longer before Dean jerks awake with a loud gasp; eyes wide and wild. He bucks beneath Castiel and struggles momentarily, but he’s firmly pinned and eventually sags back against the bed. Great heaving breaths rattle through him hard enough that Castiel can _feel_ it.

“It was just a nightmare, Dean.” Sam continues to pet his hair gently. “It’s okay. Just a dream.”

Dean swallows thickly and nods, but his brow still furrows as he blinks up at them.

“I’m going to go and get you a glass of water, okay?” Sam steps back from the bed, keeping his movements slow. “I’ll be right back.”

“”Kay.” His voice is nothing more than a croak, but Dean nods again.

Castiel hasn’t moved or loosened his grip. He wants to make sure that Dean is fully awake before letting go. He’s never been punched in the face before and he’s not looking to change that tonight. “Have you calmed down? Would you like me to let go now?”

Dean continues to blink up at him. He takes a deep breath and experimentally wiggles in Castiel’s hold. “Huh.” He huffs and looks down. “I can’t move.”

“I know.” Slowly, he loosens his grip and sits back a little more. “Sam warned I might get punched in the face. I didn’t want that to happen.”

“You didn’t even break a sweat holding me down, did you?” Even in the dark of the room, Dean’s eyes are wide and full of wonder. “There something you’re not telling me, Cas?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side and has to focus to keep his feathers from fluffing. He _likes_ that look a little too much for his own good. “Did I fail to mention that I’m stronger than I look?” There’s a smile playing on his lips, and he’s not sure when he allowed that to happen. “I’ll show you how much I can bench press in the morning.”

Dean licks his lips and swallows again, his throat clicking in the silence. “O-okay. I – Yeah.” He’s gone fairly breathless now. “_Okay_.”

“It’s part of my mutation. The only _non-visible_ part of it, at least.”

“That’s – uh – That’s cool.” He bobs his head in a nod. “Anything else you wanna share with the class?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, just my wings and the strength.” He pauses and cocks his head to the other side, eyes unfocused while he thinks about it. “Well, sometimes I think that my senses are a little sharper than the normal person, but it’s really hard to be sure of that.”

Again, Dean nods. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.”

He says it so fast that he sounds more like he’s just saying the word ‘_coo_’ over and over again. But Castiel has binge watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine with the Winchesters before, and he catches the reference whether Dean is aware that he’s made it or not.

“Alright, Jake Peralta. Can I let you up now?”

That gets a watery smile in answer. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m not going to get punched, am I?” Castiel raises an eyebrow even as he lets go entirely.

“I’m awake now, Cas. No punchies happen when I’m awake unless I’m on the job.” Dean uncrosses his arms with a bit of a groan and drapes them out over the edge of the bed. “Or unless you’re Sam and you just made a shitty joke.”

Sam announces his return with a loud sigh. “I heard that.” He crosses over to the bed and hands over the glass of water. “My jokes are awesome. Shut up.”

Castiel doesn’t realize that he’s essentially sitting in Dean’s lap until Dean has to scoot back to sit up against the headboard so he can drink. He quickly slips off the opposite side of the bed and stands at the edge, hoping that the room is too dark for either of them to notice the heat filling his face.

Luckily, Dean is too focused on sipping at his water to say anything, and Sam is mostly facing away from him when he sits on the other side of the bed. He’s too busy tilting his head and trying to catch Dean’s eye anyway. “You okay?”

“Yeah, guess so.” Dean shrugs but he doesn’t lift his head.

“Was it –” Sam hesitates and glances back at Castiel slightly. “Was it the fire again?”

Dean looks up just enough to fix him with a dark frown. “It’s _always_ fire.” His free hand comes up to idly rub at the burn scars on his right arm.

The action doesn’t go unnoticed and Castiel sits down too, if only so he can put his hand on Dean’s knee and give it a comforting squeeze. He gets a small smile for it and Dean switches to holding the water with his other hand just so he can cover Castiel’s hand with his own. It doesn’t even occur to him to _not_ do it, and he doesn’t think twice about turning his hand over to hold it.

“Thanks, guys.” Dean’s smile is a little stronger this time around.

Sam pats him on the thigh and then turns enough to look at Castiel. “You could go back to bed if you want. I can stay up with Dean. I usually do.”

While the thought of getting back to sleep _is_ tempting, he can’t stand the idea of leaving the two of them on their own like this – especially when it’s more or less his fault for bringing up the conversation that caused the nightmare in the first place.

“Do you normally not get back to sleep after a nightmare?”

Dean shrugs and he takes another sip of water, almost draining the glass in that one go. “Sometimes? It depends on a number of things.”

Castiel frowns and looks down at the single bed in the guest room – his childhood bed, to be precise. There’s no way that Dean _and_ Sam would fit in it. Not comfortably, at least. The couch is also not big enough for both of them to lie down together.

Because having someone to lay with him _is_ what they’re talking about, isn’t it? Castiel is no stranger to the need of physical comfort, even though he generally takes his through hand holding. It’s grown to include hugs and what cuddling he does with Dean on the couch, but that doesn’t change how he _understands_.

“You can have my bed.” He stands up, decision made. “It’s big enough for the both of you, and you can sleep there. I’ll take the guest bed.”

“No way, Cas.” Dean shakes his head and sits up a little more. “I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

He rolls his eyes and gestures at the door. “You’re _not_. We’re just swapping for the rest of the night.”

Sam looks between them with his head tilted slightly. “Well then, Cas…” He hums quietly to himself. “Why don’t _you_ be the one to stay with Dean tonight? He can share your bed with you since he doesn’t want you to move out of your room for the night, and _I_ can stay in here.” For added emphasis, he runs his hand back and forth on the sheets.

Whatever noise Dean makes, Castiel has _no_ idea what it’s supposed to mean. It’s somewhere between surprise and unhappiness, but something else? No, but that’s a _glare_ Dean is giving Sam now. So he’s _not_ happy at the suggestion of sharing a room with him? Funny, that’s something Castiel thought Dean would jump for.

Truthfully, he hadn’t considered that as an option. It does trip him up now that Castiel takes a moment to think about it. Aside from Anna, no one else has shared his bed before.

With a hum, he tilts his head and looks across the hall to his empty room. “Are you a kicker?”

“Uh –?” Dean snaps his attention to him. “Not that I know of?”

“He’s not.” Sam supplies happily as he stands up. “Unless he’s having a nightmare, of course, but you saw that.”

Castiel nods, still considering the possibility. _Could_ he share his bed with Dean? It’s not like he’s especially opposed to or anything. Dean is one of his best friends, but he certainly doesn’t fall into the same category as Sam. Not even the same category as Anna – and not just because he’s known her his whole life and she’s _family_. But because Dean is _different_.

Dean holds his hand and makes it feel like there’s lightning under his skin. They cuddle on the couch and Castiel _misses_ that closeness when he’s not here. Dean just – he’s _different_, and he wants to be there for him when he’s going through a rough time.

“Okay.” Castiel shakes himself out and ruffles his feathers. “If you’re fine with me being the one to keep you company, than you’re welcome to share my bed with me, Dean.”

Maybe it’s a trick of the dark lighting in the room, or maybe it’s Castiel’s imagination, but it almost looks like Dean is _blushing_. His jaw is hanging open and he’s staring, goggle-eyed as if Castiel suggested dancing naked around a fire instead. It’s just sharing a bed, and if Dean freaks out about this, then it’s going to freak _him_ out too and that’s nothing anybody wants.

Dean takes a deep breath and clears his throat. “O-o-okay.”

“Great!” Sam claps his hands together and stands up. “Maybe I might actually sleep tonight now that I’ll be in a bed.”

“You might want to change the sheets first.” Dean slides out of bed in an almost robotic way, his movements stiff and jerky. Maybe he still hasn’t come down from his nightmare yet? “I got pretty sweaty there.”

“Already on it!” Sam throws the blanket off the bed and starts pulling off the sheets. “You guys go get settled and don’t worry about me. I’ll bring the bedding from the living room and get this all put together. If we’re lucky, we’ll all be able to get some more sleep tonight.”

Castiel starts around the bed and heads for the hall. “If you need anything, let us know. Good luck and goodnight, Sam.”

“Yeah – uh – g’night.” Dean mutters under his breath as he follows him slowly out of the guest room, across the hall, and into the master bedroom.

Once Dean is out of the way, Castiel closes the door most of the way. He hesitates slightly before pushing it that final inch until it clicks into place. It feels like that one quiet _click_ echoes in the room. Now they’re alone and Castiel is acutely aware of how Dean is standing, almost hugging himself, just a few feet away.

A few moments of silence pass. Dean stares at the bed and Castiel stares at Dean. He clears his throat and gestures towards the right side of the bed. “This is where I usually sleep.” It’s closest to the bathroom, and thus the side he’s come to sleep on over the years.

“That’s fine.” Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck and shrugs. “I don’t have any preference when it comes to bed. I can sleep pretty much anywhere.”

And yet he still hesitates to move. It’s even darker in Castiel’s room, with no other light besides the dull glow from his alarm clock. Dean is mostly shadows moving against shadows, but Castiel can clearly see the edges of him and the tense line of his shoulders. He’s uncomfortable, and it takes far too long for _why_ to click into place.

“Would you prefer your own blanket?” Castiel shifts on his feet, unsure if he should go get a spare one, or if he should go to his closet first. “Or would you like to borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

“Shit.” Dean looks down at himself and Castiel catches the motion as he crosses his arms that much tighter over his chest. “I didn’t think – Of course you don’t want to sleep next to _this_. I’ll –”

Castiel quickly steps closer to place a hand on his arm. The scars under his palm have defined edges, but they’re smooth when he rubs his thumb over them. “You misunderstand me, Dean.”

While Dean might not be able to _see_ his smile, Castiel hopes that he can hear it. “Your scars don’t bother me. They never have.” He pulls lightly at Dean’s arm until he can coax him closer to the bed too. “I was asking for _your_ comfort. I know you don’t like having them on display in front of myself or Sam.”

It's new – a novelty – to use _his_ touch to give someone else comfort. Castiel isn’t accustomed to touching someone so much, but he’s quickly getting used to it the more time he spends with Dean. It’s difficult not to when Dean is a fairly physical person and takes such comfort in it. He’s worming his way in past all of Castiel’s defenses with every gentle touch.

Now it’s just Castiel’s turn.

He brings his other hand up slowly until his fingers bump the shadowed edge of Dean’s jaw. From there, he slides up until he’s cupping his cheek. Immediately, Dean turns his face into the touch; leaning into it with a soft sigh that puffs against Castiel’s wrist.

A frisson of heat flares sharply in Castiel chest and he finds himself stepping closer, his hand sliding to cup the back of Dean’s neck and guide him into a hug. Without hesitation, Dean drops his arms and wraps them around Castiel’s waist. The next breath flutters across his neck as Dean buries his face against his shoulder.

They’re standing bare chest to bare chest and Castiel has to try _very hard_ to not think about it. He also tries not to think about how the scars make for an interesting texture – and part of him just wants to _rub all against it _so he can feel it _everywhere_. And where the heck did _that_ thought come from?

“Sorry.” Dean’s voice is a muffled rumble from against his shoulder. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“You’re not a mess, Dean.” Castiel rubs small circles between his shoulder blades and squeezes the back of his neck gently. “I have intense social anxiety and you have nightmares. We all have something.” And it could be argued that Castiel has _far_ more problems than Dean does.

The hold Dean has on him is tight, but it’s not enough to hide how he’s trembling slightly. Castiel wishes that there was more he could do to help him besides sharing a bed. Although he doubts that it’s going to end there. Knowing Dean, he’s probably going to want to hold hands throughout the night or something similar. That could be awkward since Castiel sleeps on his stomach and tends to tuck his arms under his pillow or chest. But – Oh!

An idea occurs to him and Castiel has to act quickly before his brain is given the chance to overthink it. He closes his eyes, and folds his wings forward to overlap around Dean’s back. It would be more effective if the feathers weren’t clipped, but it has the desired effect. Dean goes _very_ still _very_ quickly. He even stops breathing.

When he finally breathes again, it’s a slow, shuddering breath. “Cas?”

“_You_ like them.” Castiel shrugs and tucks his nose against the side of Dean’s neck. “I thought this might help you. Are they – Is it helping?”

“Fuck _yes_.” Dean hugs him tighter; nuzzles closer. “You’re the _best_.”

And this was only step one of his two step plan. Hopefully Dean will like step two too. “If it will help you sleep better, I’m willing to cover you with one. Would you like that?”

Dean’s head pops up so quickly that Castiel’s wings flare out in surprise. “Shut up, seriously?” It’s hard to tell in the dark, but it looks like his eyes are wide and he _sounds_ like he’s smiling. “If I throw in a couple tears, would that be enough to get you to spoon me?”

Castiel rolls his eyes and steps out of the hug. “Well now that I know those are going to be crocodile tears… I don’t think so.” But if Dean is cracking jokes, then he must be feeling better.

“Aw, but I’m _really_ convincing.” To add to his point, Dean even sniffles.

“Wing blanket. Take it or leave it.” He shakes his head and starts towards the bed.

Dean doesn’t even hesitate to bound over to the other side. “Taking it!” He flips back the blankets and flops heavily onto the mattress, patting the space next to him.

Castiel can’t quite _see_ the gesture, but he certainly hears it. His pulse is thumping in his ears loud enough that he can _tell_ when his heart skips a beat right before he crawls into the spot he abandoned so quickly earlier. As always, Castiel settles on his stomach, but this time he’s much closer to the center of the bed than normal. He takes his time with arranging the blanket comfortably across his hips. It’s too warm to sleep with it any higher.

Once Dean is lying down and snuggled under the blanket too, Castiel fans his wing out over him and lets it rest heavy across him. “There. Is that good?”

“It’s _perfect_.” Dean sounds _delighted_ as he wiggles down under it and turns on his side to face him. He drops his voice into a whisper. “Thank you, Cas. For everything.”

Castiel hums and tucks his arms under the pillow. “I’m sorry for setting off your nightmares by being an inconsiderate ass.”

“S’fine.” Dean brings a hand up to lightly card through Castiel’s feathers. “It’s not like you knew. And it’s about time you knew the whole picture and not just bits and pieces.” He shrugs and fidgets with straightening a stray feather. “I’m – uh – I’m glad you know now, so you can call Sam out on his mopey sad bullshit whenever it happens again.”

A smile plays across Castiel’s lips and he turns his face to hide it in the pillow, just in case Dean might be able to see it. “I suppose I can now, hm?”

“Yeah.” Dean nods and muffles a yawn under his hand. “And yer _really_ gonna spoil me by letting me sleep in here with you.”

“Don’t get used to it.” And Castiel isn’t sure if he’s saying that more to himself, or to Dean.

“Too late.” Dean chuckles, and there’s a distinctly sleepy lilt to it. “Already am.”

Castiel rolls his eyes before closing them. “Good_night_, Dean.”

“G’night, Cas.”

* * *

** _Monday – July 9th, 2018_ **

This visit was regrettably short, and Castiel feels that like a weight on his chest as he hugs Sam goodbye next to the Impala. He watches him go around the far side of the car and get into the passenger seat. A gentle tug at his elbow reminds him that he’s still got one more hug to give, and he doesn’t mind the thought of it at all.

In comparison to Sam’s hug, Dean’s is tighter and last longer. It _lingers_, and Castiel can’t tell if it’s him or Dean who does the lingering.

But Dean is definitely the one who catches his hand as he’s stepping back. “You – uh – _Sioux Falls_ is really nice this time of year, y’know?”

Castiel smiles and shakes his head. “Maybe next time.”

Clearly there’s more that Dean wants to say, but he presses his lips into a thin line and refrains. After a moment, he nods in understanding. “Yeah, okay.” He glances back at the car before squeezing Castiel’s hand. “We’ll probably be back some time in August. I’ll try and swing it.”

“That would be nice.” It’s not quite Autumn, but the weather starts turning then and Castiel is looking forward to it. “We could have more bonfires.”

Dean lights up with a bright smile. “Yeah, we totally could.” He shifts on his feet, still not having let go of Castiel’s hand. “You’ll tell Anna and Amara goodbye for us, okay?”

“Of course.”

He worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment. “And –”

“And you’re _stalling_.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean sighs and tightens the grip on his hand. “It’s because I kinda hate leaving. It’s – It’s really nice here, Cas.”

Castiel nods and tries not to preen at the subtle compliment. “It is, but I think you just like the company.” He means it as a tease, but even he knows that it’s the truth.

Both Winchesters have made it very obvious over the past several months that the reason they keep coming back here is because of _him_. There’s just something about him that Dean likes, and Castiel still can’t fathom why. Whatever the case may be, he’s happy for it.

It took a little time, but he’s really come to enjoy having visitors – having _friends_. They’ve helped Castiel grow a lot since he first met them last November. Because of them, he went to see _fireworks_ this year, and he’s taken to going to the grocery store more often.

It’s easier when Dean is there to chat his ear off, or when Sam comes along too and they end up arguing about what goes in the cart – making Castiel play as the tie breaker. When Anna joins them, the fun only doubles and there’s no time to even _think_ about all the other people around them.

Dean sighs softly and runs his thumb over Castiel’s knuckles. “Yeah, I – I really do.” There’s a sincerity to his words that makes his next breath catch in his throat. “I’ll – uh – I’ll text you later, okay?”

Castiel sounds a little more strained than he’d like to. “I look forward to it.”

He’s not sure if it’s that or Dean just not wanting to go that makes him hesitate again, but there’s still a moment or two where he doesn’t let go. But then, as it has to, Dean nods and drops his hand. He gives him a cheeky grin before getting in the car, and Castiel takes several steps back to stand by the garage door and wait.

Just like every other time they’ve left, there’s a kind of _cold_ sensation curling under Castiel’s ribs. He does his best not to let any of that show as he waves them off. They back down the drive a bit before being able to turn into the loop. Dean honks as they drive past, and once more before they disappear entirely down the road.

When he can no longer hear the rumble of the engine, Castiel heads back inside. He climbs the stairs up from the foyer and turns to step into the living room. The make-shift bed on the couch has been washed and packed away already. Same for the bedroom. There isn’t really anything but the lingering scent of aftershave to prove that they were here, but Dean promised they would be back next month.

Not every visit can be for four weeks at a time. Castiel is also well aware they tried their hardest to arrange their schedule so that they would be here specifically for the Fourth of July. They wanted to see the fireworks with him, and he’s glad that they did. He was nervous out of his _mind_, but it was really nice. Totally worth it.

And if stepping out of his comfort zone for _that_ went so well – then, maybe, he can take this next month and a bit to really work his courage up. Maybe next time, when Dean asks him to go to _Sioux Falls_ with him, maybe he’ll be able to say ‘_yes_’.

It will all depend entirely on how he’s feeling at that point in time, but right now – Right now he would really like to go just so he doesn’t have to say ‘_goodbye_’.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Tuesday – July 10th, 2018_ **

There’s something entirely too _peaceful_ about standing in the backyard in his pajamas in the mid-morning sun, hose in hand while he holds the trigger to water the garden. Castiel closes his eyes and listens to the wind rustling through the trees; the hum of insects buzzing from flower to flower; the call of a variety of birds; the bell like tones of a wind chime hanging from the corner of the roof.

For someone who isn’t fond of going out in public, he still finds being outdoors calming – _relaxing_.

The summer months find him spending the majority of his time outside. If only he was able to bring his work out here too. The editing he could probably get away with, but it would be much more difficult (and annoying) to set up his transcription equipment out here. And what would be the point, anyway? As much as he enjoys the fresh air, he wouldn’t be able to experience the _sounds_ with his headphones on and the recordings droning away in his ear.

As he moves on to the next patch of garden, Castiel’s phone both buzzes and bings quietly in the pocket of his pants. He pulls it out with one hand while continuing to arc the spray of the hose over the garden beds; giving them a good soaking.

Unsurprisingly, the message is from Dean. Castiel doesn’t get messages from Anna nearly as much as he does from Dean nowadays.

_Can we talk about the other night?_

** _What about it?_ **   
_Read 10:33am_

Castiel has a feeling that he knows exactly what Dean wants to talk about, but he’ll let him get to it in his own time. He expected a response to come through right away, but the little bubble that shows Dean is typing appears and disappears over and over again. Clearly he’s having some difficulty figuring out _how_ he wants to word what he says next. Since that might take some time, Castiel puts his phone away and focuses again on the garden.

Once he’s done watering, he checks some of his more temperamental flowers. He moves some into the shade and others further into the sun. A few pots gets more fertilizer and others get more water. It’s almost a ritual and Castiel hums quietly to himself as he goes.

Strangely, he actually _enjoys_ the sun on his feathers.

Eventually, his phone does buzz and beep again.

_About sleeping in your bed?_

** _You were respectful of my space, didn’t kick me,  
and you didn’t steal my blankets._ **

** _One night and I already prefer sharing my bed  
with you to sharing it with Anna.  
_ ** _Read 10:45am_

Castiel waits again for a response, only to be subjected to the disappearing and reappearing bubbles again. It’s almost amusing to see how anxious this topic is making Dean. In contrast, Castiel is completely calm about it. He had thought that their roles would be reversed in this, but that is – surprisingly – not the case.

Maybe he should call Dean instead so they can talk about it properly? He debates that point with himself for a moment before discarding it and tucking his phone away again. Dean might need the extra time afforded to him by typing to get his thoughts in order.

With his work in the garden more or less done, Castiel puts the bag of fertilizer back in the shed. He washes his hands with the hose and dries them on his pants before turning the crank that coils the hose back up on its storage mount on the side of the house, next to the faucet.

Satisfied that he’s taken care of his father’s gardens acceptably, he heads back inside. Castiel pours his second cup of coffee of the morning and takes it with him to his bedroom. There he changes out of his pajama pants and into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He brushes his teeth, washes his face, and makes an attempt to brush his hair into place. It tends to do what it wants when he doesn’t use some kind of product to tame it.

By the time he settles down into his chair in the office and turns his computer on, there is only one message waiting for him on his phone.

_That’s good…_

Castiel raises an eyebrow and props his chin on his fist. He taps his thumb against the side of his phone, wondering if he’s going to get another message or if this is it? Dean is certainly being very _weird_ about sharing his bed with him – more so than Castiel originally thought he would be.

He taps out of his conversation with Dean and opens the one that he has with Sam.

** _Something up?_ **   
_Read 11:05am_

_Oh most definitely._

Sam’s quick response is followed by a thirty second video of Dean pacing back and forth in what looks to be a hotel room. He’s staring at his phone and muttering quietly to himself, though the video doesn’t pick up anything that’s being said.

_It’s kind of cute how you get him so worked up  
without even doing anything._

A blush fills Castiel’s face. He sighs and shakes his head.

** _What is he trying to tell me?_ ** _  
Read 11:07am_

It takes a few minutes to get an answer again, and once again it comes in the form of a video.

“_Hey, Dean_.” Sam’s voice is clearly off camera, with the focus of the video being on Dean. “_Do you want me to tell him for you_?”

Dean turns around sharply and the video immediately zooms in on a dark frown. “_No_!” And, with that, he stomps into the bathroom and slams the door behind him.

The video flickers as Sam switches cameras to face himself. “_You heard him_.” He shrugs, grins, and the video ends there.

Castiel muffles a laugh behind one hand as he starts typing an answer.

** _XD  
Well, in his own time then._ ** **   
** _Read 11:11am_

_He’ll get around to it._

_Eventually. :P_

Would it make it easier on Dean if Castiel told him that he already knows what he wants to talk about? Probably, but it’s fun to have something to tease him about, so he’ll keep to himself for now. Though Dean would probably _love_ knowing that Castiel’s pulse picks up if he allows his thoughts to drift in that direction. He won’t mention it now, and he’ll deal with it when – if – Dean ever gets the courage to ask him about the possibility of sharing his bed during _every_ visit.

Until then, Castiel isn’t going to think about it.

Definitely not.

He absolutely won’t think about how _nice_ it had been to wake up the next morning and still have Dean curled under his wing looking so loose and comfortable in _his_ bed. It appealed to something deep inside him that Castiel hadn’t ever felt before.

And he definitely won’t think about falling back to sleep with the soft sounds of Dean’s breathing, purely because he didn’t want to disturb him. Only to be woken later when the bed shifted as Dean got up. But then there had been gentle fingers soothing carefully through his hair and down into his feathers; a sleep-rough whisper telling him he didn’t need to get up until breakfast was ready.

It was so nice to be tucked back into bed and listen to the quiet footsteps as Dean let himself out of the room. And the morning felt so soft and peaceful with the three of them sitting in the sunlit dining room, bellies full of breakfast and coffees in hand. Both Winchesters looking well rested for such a rough night.

It was – Well, it was certainly something Castiel wouldn’t mind doing again. But he doesn’t need to tell Dean about that just yet.

* * *

** _Sunday – July 29th, 2018_ **

Castiel puts the controller down and turns to Anna. The faux-leather of the uncomfortable couch in her living room squeaks under him. “I need you to slap me.”

Without question, Anna puts her controller down too and draws her hand back, ready to do as asked. But she pauses right before swinging. “Wait. Why am I slapping you?”

“Don’t slap your cousin.” Aunt Amara sighs from where she’s sitting at the tiny round table in the little alcove they call the dining room.

“But he just told me too!” Anna turns to look over the back of the couch at her.

“And I’m telling you _not_ to.” She doesn’t even look up from the puzzle book she has open before her.

Castiel shakes his head and gestures for Anna to pay attention to him. “No, I mean it. _Please_ slap me.”

Aunt Amara sighs and pushes back from the table. It only takes a few steps to come up behind the table. Their living room and dining room are really not that big – and the kitchen isn’t much better either. But that’s the best they could get with Anna being a registered mutant.

She cocks her hip and crosses her arms. “Okay. What in the world is going on here?”

“I want Anna to slap me.” And slap him she does. This time there’s no hesitation and Anna hits him hard enough that tears come to his eyes and his ears ring a little. Castiel shakes his head and covers his cheek with his hand. “Thank you.”

Aunt Amara rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. “Alright. Explain what that was all about.”

“I need it to psyche me up.” Thought now he’s starting to think that it wasn’t such a good idea. His face really hurts.

Anna gasps and grabs Castiel by his shoulders, even shaking him slightly. “You’re going to say ‘_yes_’, aren’t you?!”

Her enthusiasm is a little terrifying and Castiel tries not to recoil from it. “Maybe?”

That’s apparently enough of an answer for Aunt Amara. She looks between them before circling around the couch and sitting on the ottoman they use as their coffee table. “Are you sure about this, sweetheart? South Dakota is a long way from home.”

Sioux Falls, South Dakota is exactly three hundred and eighty-five point eight miles from home. That might as well be lightyears to Castiel, but this is still something that he wants to do. “Dean would bring me right back the moment I ask him to.”

She puts a hand on his knee; a comforting weight. “I know he would, but –”

Castiel shakes his head. “I _want_ to go.” He takes a deep breath and covers her hand with his. “It terrifies me, but I want to go see their home, and the school that trained them, and meet the people that took care of them when their dad stopped coming home.” And he doesn’t want to have to say ‘goodbye’.

Aunt Amara shares a brief look with Anna before leaning forward. “Do you want one of us to go with you? I’ve got banked time off, and I’m sure they’ll let Anna take a vacation if she threatens to quit.”

“Yeah, right.” Anna rolls her eyes.

“Isn’t it _illegal_ not to give you vacation when you work full time?” Castiel frowns at that. He really should look more into the laws regarding mutant rights.

Anna shakes her head and flops back against the couch. “Not when it comes to mutants.” When Castiel’s frown deepens, she reaches out and hushes him with a finger to his lips. “It’s fine. I could just quit and get a different job if you need me to come with you.”

There’s no way Castiel could ever be that selfish, especially when he knows how hard it was for her to find one in the first place. Even the fast food industry turns up their noses at mutants. “No. You need your job.” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I can do this on my own. _I can do this_.” And if he just keeps telling himself that, it might actually become true.

Aunt Amara lets go of his knee to take one of his hands in hers and squeezes it. “When are they coming back again?”

“In a few weeks?” He shrugs. The timeline is never really set. Dean mentioned sometime in August and that’s really all Castiel knows on that matter.

“And you’re _sure_ you want to go with them when they leave again?”

He’s sure that he wants to _try_ and that should be enough, shouldn’t it? He shrugs again and looks down at his lap. “If I don’t manage to talk myself out of it by then.”

Anna rubs her hands together, a little more gleefully than necessary. “I’ll slap you as many times as you need. All you need to do is ask!”

Aunt Amara turns a disapproving frown on her. “No you will _not_.”

“But _mom_ –” Anna cuts off with one look from her mom.

There’s a long moment of silence where both Castiel and his aunt wait to see if Anna will try and whine again. When it doesn’t come, Aunt Amara turns to him and pats his hand. “I’ll support whatever decision you make.” She reaches up to pinch his cheek. “And I’ll hunt those boys down and _gut them_ if they’ve somehow been playing the long-con with you.”

She sits back again with a smile. “I’ll drive out and get you myself if you need me to. All it will take is one text or phone call and I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

Anna nods, suddenly serious too. “Ditto.”

Oh _geeze_. Castiel ducks his head, but he does scoot forward on the couch enough that he can pull his firecracker of an aunt into a hug. He loves her a lot – Anna too, even if his cheek is still smarting.

The ottoman is slightly higher than the couch, since it doesn’t match the set, and Aunt Amara is sitting higher than him. She tucks his head under her chin and runs her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. “Love you kiddo.”

After a moment, she kisses the top of his head and clears her throat. She stands up, breaking the hug. “Okay. I’m going back to my puzzles. You kids had better play nice.”

“We _always _play nice, Mom!” Anna huffs, but turns to Castiel with a grin. She squeezes his knee and points at the TV where _Super Smash Bros_ is pending their next game. “Ready for round two?”

Castiel picks up his controller and wiggles it at her. “As long as you’re ready to get beaten again.”

They share a grin and she presses _Start_.

* * *

** _Saturday – August 11th, 2018_ **

The rumble of the Impala’s engine is all the notice Castiel needs for the arrival of the Winchesters. Of course he had the notice sent by text message when they were leaving _Lawrence_. It’s become a habit for them to go to_ Walmart_ first for supplies.

Despite that, Dean still knocks on the door before walking in. “Cas, babe, I’m ho-o-o-o-ome!”

Castiel is already waiting at the top of the stairs and he crosses his arms. “You’re definitely not _home _if you ever call me that again.”

Dean grins up at him from the foyer landing, his standard duffle hanging from his shoulder. “Shh. Don’t try to tell me that you don’t love pet names.”

“’Cas’ _is_ a pet name.” He rolls his eyes and leans his hip against the wall. “And I’m fine with _that_ one.”

“What about _Angel_?” Dean drops his bag and nudges it out of the way of the stairs with his foot. “That one would suit you to a tee.”

Except that it’s what Dean first called Anna when he met her and all it causes for Castiel is a sick burn in his chest that he doesn’t like. He narrows his eyes in a glare and his feathers raise enough to get his point across.

“I’m kidding. _Kidding_.” Dean holds up both hands before spreading his arms wide. “Truce?”

Castiel huffs and maintains his glare the whole way down the short flight of stairs. He falls into the hug a little harder than necessary, if only as retribution for the dumb nickname. If Dean is going to call him anything, he’d rather it be _Cas_ or – or something _sweet_. Not something he’s called Anna. Babe is the name of a pig, or reference to a _child_ and Castiel is neither of those.

Dean loops his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and subtly nuzzles the side of his neck. “There, there, Cas.” He pats him gently on the back of neck. “There, there.”

It’s patronizing and Castiel grumbles his distaste into Dean’s shoulder, his arms loose around his waist because it would be _rude_ not to return to the hug. It’s certainly not because he’s come to crave Dean’s hugs and he wants to savour it for a little while – even if his ire has been piqued.

When they pull apart, Dean takes a moment to press their cheeks together briefly. It’s not even a hint at a kiss, but it still sends electricity sparking under Castiel’s skin to the tips of his feathers. He can feel them puffing up again and his ears feel warmer than they were a moment ago.

Thankfully, he’s able to hide the reaction by Sam’s appearance in the doorway. He coughs and ducks around Dean so he can hug him too. “Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back.” Sam claps him on the shoulder once they step out of the hug – much shorter than the ones Dean gives. His grin is wide and teasing as he squeezes Castiel’s shoulder. “It’s _especially_ good because I get the bed this time!”

In the tight quarters of the foyer, Dean still tries to swing a kick in Sam’s direction. He drops his bag into Castiel’s hands and dances out of the way with a laugh. Sam sticks his tongue out before disappearing outside again to go get the rest of the bags from the car.

When Castiel glances at Dean again, eyebrow raised, Dean just hunches his shoulders and shakes his head. “It’s nothing, Cas.” He pushes past him to follow after Sam.

Should he believe Dean at face value? Or should Castiel trust in his instincts in that there’s more going on here than they’re letting on? His suspicions are certainly raised, and he has a sneaking feeling that it has something to do with the conversation from a month ago that they never settled between them. Dean never brought it up again and Castiel didn’t bother either.

With a sigh, he picks up Dean’s bag too and carries them both up the stairs. Dean’s he leaves at the end of the couch, and Sam’s he takes to the guest bedroom. By then, they’ve brought some of the shopping bags in from the car and he goes to help bring them up to the kitchen while the Winchesters take their shoes off in the foyer.

It doesn’t escape Castiel’s notice that Dean frowns slightly when he sees that the couch is already set up with the sheet; blanket and pillow folded and waiting on the other chair. But no one says anything about it and Dean heads into the kitchen to help put everything away. Sam disappears down the hall towards the bedroom, presumably to start unpacking the dirty laundry as is his habit.

The silence is too weighty for Castiel’s liking and he clears his throat Dean starts emptying the bags onto the counter. “So, how was your hunt on the way here?”

Dean shrugs and sorts out the items that need to go into the fridge. “Fine.”

Even if Castiel didn’t know better, he’d be unnerved by such a short answer. But he’s well aware that the hunt was _not_ fine and it annoys him that Dean’s trying to lie to him about it. Especially when he can see the edge of a strip of medical tape peeking out from beneath the collars of his shirts.

He crosses the kitchen in a few quick steps and pulls the back of Dean’s collars out, just enough to see down his back at the rest of the bandage. “Fine, hm?”

Dean spins around and backs up against the counter. His cheeky grin is a little _too_ cheeky. “Yup! Totally fine. Nothing to worry about here.”

“_Sam_ didn’t seem to think you were fine.” Castiel crosses his arms and squares his shoulders, fully ready to argue about how _annoyed_ he is that Dean didn’t message him himself about what had happened. Was he planning to hide this from him the whole time?

“God_dammit_, Sam!” Dean rubs his hands over his face. An innocent whistling drifts up the hall in response and Dean sighs. “Seriously, Cas, it was nothing.”

“A trip to the _hospital _is not _nothing_, Dean!”

Castiel still feels shaky just thinking about when he got the text messages from Sam the other night. He had just been settling down with a movie after dinner when they had come in.

_Finished the hunt._

_At the hospital right now._

The sudden spike to his nerves had very nearly caused Castiel to lose his supper then and there. He had been frozen in place, unable to do anything but stare at his phone while feeling like he was about to lose his supper.

But then a few more messages had popped in almost right away.

_It’s just a precaution._

_We’re fine, but the wait time here is going to slow us down._

_We’ll be there Saturday morning instead of Friday night._

The relief had been instantaneous and Castiel had been able to react appropriately after that. He got the rest of the information from Sam, but had been strictly instructed not to text Dean about it. Apparently he had been very insistent that Sam not say anything to Castiel – which had been promptly ignored. Thank you, Sam.

Dean groans and drops his head back. “Oh my God, you big worry warts! It was just a couple _scratches_ that I got from falling off a fence while we were chasing the perp.” He crosses his arms and frowns off to the side, refusing to look at Castiel. “My healing takes on infections and viruses like a fucking _champ_, but Sam’s a whiny bitch and insisted that we go to the hospital to get a tetanus shot. I didn’t even need stitches or anything.”

But Castiel refuses to back down about this. Dean is his _friend_ and he wants to know when he’s hurt. Even if there’s very little he could do for him here, the least he wants to do is be kept abreast of the situation. Their job is a dangerous one and he hates that something horrible could happen to them and he might never know if they _don’t tell him_.

Worse yet is that he knows there’s more that Dean isn’t telling him. He knew that he’d fallen off a fence, and that he’d gotten scratched up by some rusty metal in the junkyard they were chasing the perp through. Castiel knows because Sam said that he would have Dean tell him the rest. And yet here they are with Dean not wanting to tell him anything.

So, Castiel holds his ground. He narrows his eyes and glares Dean down, waiting. After a moment, Dean lifts his head to glare right back, mimicking his stance. But what he doesn’t seem to grasp is that Castiel is patient. He can play this game for as long as needed.

Sure enough, it’s not long before Dean shows signs of weakness. A muscle in his jaw twitches and his bottom lip juts out slightly. All it takes is for Castiel to raise one eyebrow in challenge before Dean caves.

“Okay, _fine_.” He sags heavily against the counter with a defeated sigh. “I fell on a bunch of rusty nails and shit. Most of it healed up while we were chasing the fucker down, and there _might_ have been the chance that some of the nails were… healed over.”

Castiel cringes at the mental image. “You had to go to the hospital to get them removed.”

“And a tetanus shot!” Sam supplies helpfully as he walks past with the hamper, likely intent on going through Dean’s bag to get his dirty laundry too.

“Yes, _thank you_, Sammy.” Dean grumbles, hanging his head briefly before looking back at Castiel. “There, that’s the whole story. The joys of chasing idiots through junk yards.” He ends off with wiggling his hands in front of him. “Ta _da_.”

But that still leaves him unsettled. He just doesn’t like hearing that Dean got hurt, even though he knows that it’s a large risk of his job. There’s nothing he can do about it, but _still_. Castiel frowns and reaches out and stops, not really sure why or what he’s going to do.

Dean catches his hand and squeezes, giving him a soft, warm smile. “I’m okay, Cas. Really.”

A protective flame flares to life in Castiel’s chest and he grips Dean’s hand tight, jerking him forward into a hug. He wraps his arms tightly around his waist, carefully avoiding putting any pressure on his upper back where it might still be a little sore. Dean’s healing should have taken care of it all by now, but he still doesn’t want to be the cause of _more_ pain.

Because he knows that Dean enjoys it, Castiel also folds his wings forward and around him. The moment he does it, he can feel Dean shiver against him and press in a little tighter. His nose is tucked into the curve of Castiel’s neck and the ghost of a sigh passes over his collarbone, eliciting goosebumps from toe to crown.

“Thanks for worrying about me.” Dean mumbles it right into his skin, barely loud enough to be heard.

Castiel holds on tighter, his heart in his throat. Before Sam’s other texts had come in, when he was frozen and unable to text back, he had been one hundred percent prepared to call up his aunt and beg her to pick him up and take him to wherever they were. It was _hours_ away, but he didn’t even think about that. All he cared about was getting to where they were so he could be with Dean.

But then Sam’s other messages came through and Castiel had very nearly _cried_ in relief.

When they pull apart after several long moments, this time _he’s_ the one who presses his cheek against Dean’s. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

The big bright smile Dean gives him in return is enough to make Castiel feel instantly better.

* * *

** _Sunday – August 12, 2018_ **

Castiel fidgets with the cords of his pajama pants, tying and untying them over and over while he stares at the clock. It’s just past midnight now, but he’s too nervous to try and go to sleep.

Anna and Aunt Amara had come over for dinner, and stayed around afterwards playing video games. Dean had downloaded a bundle of games to the PlayStation called _Jackbox TV_. They connected to it through a website on their phones and a room code. It was a hilarious amount of fun and they played all the games a few times before Anna and Aunt Amara left.

That _should_ have been the end of the night, but then Dean had insisted on watching a movie. Not just _any_ movie, though. He wanted to watch some _scary_ movies. Castiel might be an anxious mess when it comes to going out in public, but he doesn’t scare easily. They watched the first two _Saw_ movies, and he didn’t even flinch during the jump scares. Dean, however, was holding his hand tightly the entire time.

Sam had retired to bed at some point during the second movie, claiming that he was fairly tired. The _had _driven for half the morning, so Castiel didn’t fault him for that.

After the movies, Dean had gone to take a shower. They had bid each other goodnight and Castiel went through his nightly routine, changed clothes, and has been sitting on the edge of the bed ever since. The sound of Dean’s shower ended just a few minutes ago, and Castiel lifts his head to look at his door when he hears the bathroom door open. Dean’s footsteps head off down the hall, and then there’s nothing.

Castiel can feel the weight of the empty space on the other side of his bed a little too keenly. Dean hasn’t brought it up again since the text conversation after their last visit, but he’s not very subtle with how he feels about sleeping on the couch again.

He rubs his hands up and down his thighs a few times before standing up. His feet take him to the door before he hesitates, hand on the doorknob. Should he do this? Part of him wants to, but the other part is worried that it’s going to change something about their friendship – and he’s not entirely sure _what_ that change might be.

But then he remembers the bandage on Dean’s back and the text messages, and he can’t bear the idea of not being close to him tonight. Castiel opens the door before he can talk himself out of it, and quietly pads out into the hall.

When he reaches the living room, it’s to find Dean sitting on the couch in his boxers with his right foot propped up on the coffee table. There’s _five_ different bottles of lotions and moisturizers sitting out on the table and Dean is in the middle of spreading a liberal amount of lotion over the myriad of scars down his leg. His right leg appears to be mostly burn scars, but there are a number of long cuts and deep scratches littering his left.

Dean stops when he notices that he’s not alone. “Uh – hey?” He glances up at Castiel before reaching for another bottle.

“Hello.” Is all Castiel can manage around the lump in his throat.

“If you have coin, Khajit has wares.” Dean waves his hand at the bottles on the table. “Help yourself to a pump or two if you want.”

He shakes his head and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.” Dean shrugs and pumps another bit into his hands. “I’m gonna do my thighs now. Just an FYI if you’re going to keep watching me.” Dean flashes him a grin and a quick wiggle of his eyebrows as his free hand starts pulling the leg of his boxer up higher.

Castiel rolls his eyes and turns around. He continues fidgeting with the ties of his pants until Dean hums softly. “You’re safe.” When he turns around again, Dean is starting on his arms. “So, what can I help you with, Cas?”

“I –” He stops and tilts his head, suddenly distracted by the deep scar running over Dean’s left shoulder. “How do you do your back?”

“Not easily.” Dean sighs and switches to his other arm. “If Sam doesn’t help, then I do have a sponge on a stick thing that I use. But it’s not as good as having someone rub it in.” He pauses and looks up at Castiel with wide eyes and a wider grin. “Why? You offering?”

Something about that look sets his feathers on edge and Castiel can feel them fluffing up behind him. He crosses his arms. “It depends on whether or not you’re going to keep smiling like that.”

Dean’s response to that is laughter. He picks up one of the bottles and passes it to him before turning away, scooting further down the couch to make room. Castiel looks first at the bottle and then at Dean’s back. He hesitates just for a moment before sighing and folding a leg under him to sit behind Dean. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that nonsense.

Castiel squeezes a lot of lotion into his palm and sets the bottle aside. He rubs his hands together before starting with Dean’s shoulders. Almost immediately he’s fascinating with the soft texture of them. Clearly Dean takes good care of them to keep them from being stiff and uncomfortable.

The injuries he took from falling at the junkyard amount to nothing more than a handful of red pin-pricks freckled across his upper back and the nape of his neck. Castiel brushes his thumb over those. They’ll probably fade entirely by the morning, and he’s relieved to see that they’re not as bad as it originally sounded.

He smoothes the lotion down Dean’s back to his waist, even running it up along sides. Castiel continues until Dean turns around. To his surprise, there’s a flush in Dean’s cheeks that runs down his throat and into his chest.

Dean clears his throat with a cough and ducks his head. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel hums in response and stands up. It still feels like he has lotion on his hands and he rubs the excess on his own arms before wiping his hands clean on his pants. And then he’s just standing there, looking at Dean looking at him.

“So, uh.” Dean starts packing up his lotions. “Is this what you came out here for?”

“No.” He shakes his head and shifts his weight again, suddenly more nervous than he had been when he came out of his bedroom. “I –”

But the words get stuck in his throat and he crosses his arms, looking away. His wings start curving over his shoulders, as if he can somehow protect himself from having to ask the embarrassing question. How can he word it so that it doesn’t come off as so – so – so _weird_?

“Aw!” Dean breaks into another wide grin as he tucks his bag of lotions back under the coffee table. “Did those scary movies freak you out, Cas?” He reclines back on the couch in a languid motion and spreads his arms across the back of it. “Now you’re too afraid to sleep alone tonight?”

Castiel hunches his shoulders with a frown. That is most certainly _not_ the case, but – but it makes an excellent excuse. If he goes with that reasoning, then he won’t have to admit or explain that he _liked_ sharing his bed with Dean, or that he wants to him to be the first thing that he sees in the morning again. He won’t have to put that desire or the light, airy feeling in his chest into words.

With that decided, Castiel looks away and nods.

After a beat of silence, Dean sits forward. “Seriously?”

“If you’re going to tease me about it, then forget it.” Castiel turns on his heel, intent on starting back down the hall to his bedroom.

“No!” Dean is on his feet in a heartbeat. “I won’t tease!”

Castiel ducks his head and starts walking. The light in the living room flicks off behind him and then Dean is stumbling after him, following all the way to the bedroom. He doesn’t wait for him at the door and goes straight to his side of the bed. Dean shuts the door behind himself and crosses the room to the other side. They both get in at the same time and Castiel turns off the light on his side table.

“Your bed is too comfortable for its own good.” Dean groans quietly as he snuggles down under the blanket, making himself at home.

Rather than settle on his stomach like he normally does, Castiel turns on his side, facing Dean. “Mm.”

“G’night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

It might just be his imagination, but he sounds a little breathless to his own ears. Though it’s hard to tell considering how hard his heartbeat is pounding in them. Castiel closes his eyes and tries to keep his breathing steady, if only to not give away his nerves. He listens to the soft sounds of Dean’s breathing evening out slowly until he sounds like he’s well and truly asleep. Though he’ll never admit it out loud, Castiel likes listening to that more than he cares to admit.

He turns his face into the pillow, just in case the dark in his bedroom isn’t enough to hide his smile.

The scary movies were a good excuse tonight, but what could he possibly use for tomorrow night? Or, maybe it would be best that he doesn’t make this a nightly thing. He shouldn’t spoil Dean _every_ night like this. Otherwise he might get _ideas_ and Castiel doesn’t want to lead him on or anything like that. Because Dean is _in_ to him, isn’t he? Anna has more or less blatantly said so more than once, which is why she hasn’t tried to pursue anything with him again, but Castiel has always just brushed it off.

And Castiel – Well, Castiel _isn’t_ interested in Dean.

Is he?

He has long since discovered that he doesn’t care about gender. At this point, Castiel is fairly sure that he’s probably pansexual, although he’s not sure if he could sleep with just anyone. Which means he might be more demi-sexual, in some way. It’s not like he’s had the opportunity to really figure that out in practice. Hell, he’s never kissed anyone, let alone slept with one.

Castiel has never been a very sexual person. He can’t even remember the last time he was aroused and jerked off. But he knows that he’s done it in the past and gotten off to thoughts of both men and women, which is why he doesn’t think gender would be a problem. But that might not be the same in practice. What happens if he gives in to Dean’s affections and ends up _not_ liking guys?

Dean seems like he’s the exact opposite of Castiel in his more carnal appetites. He’s very touchy-feely, and the jokes made about _Busty Asian Beauties _or his previous romances make it kind of obvious. Castiel is aware that Dean has tried to rein it all in when he’s here, especially given how annoyed he gets when Sam alludes to it.

Goddammit. Isn’t this just wonderful? What a perfect train of thought to have while Dean is _in his bed_. Castiel just _knows_ that this is going to keep him up for a while.

With a sigh, he shuffles onto his stomach and buries his face into the pillow. Maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can force the thoughts out of his head and he’ll actually be able to get some damn sleep.

But then fingertips brush his arm and Castiel nearly has a heart attack. He jerks up onto his elbows and glances at the dark lump of shadows that make up where Dean is sleeping.

“Wing?” The question is little more than a sleepy slur.

Castiel snorts and lowers himself back onto his belly. He spreads his wing out again and is rewarded with a happy sigh.

Dean snuggles further under his wing, shuffling closer so he’s better under it. His hand comes out to brush his fingers through his feathers a few time, petting it gently. “_Wing_.”

“Go back to sleep, Dean.”

He gets a drawn out hum in response that ends in something like a soft snore. Castiel shakes his head and nuzzles back into his pillow. Dean’s fingers are still curled around the edge of his wing, holding on as if it were a security blanket.

It’s enough to quiet all of his thoughts. Just enough for Castiel to decide that, yeah, maybe he wouldn’t mind giving it a shot.

* * *

** _Thursday – August 16th, 2018_ **

The hairs on the back of his neck prickle and Castiel is suddenly hit with the feeling like he’s being watched. He has a sneaking suspicion that he knows exactly who is watching him, but he ignores it in favour of listening to his current recording. He rewinds it a couple times, types out what he hears, and keeps going until he finds a good place to pause.

When he takes his foot off the pedal and turns around, it’s to find Dean standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips and a ridiculous grin on his face. He looks entirely too pleased with himself, and Castiel is wary of it as he takes his headphones off. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas!” He puffs up, clearly delighted with whatever it was he did.

Considering that the Winchesters had gone to town to visit their mom and get some groceries, it can only mean one thing. Castiel sighs and rocks back in his chair. “What did you buy?” It must be something good if that ridiculous grin is anything to go by.

“Besides fresh baked pie?” Dean shrugs and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Oh, y’know, I just got something _fun_ for us to do later. I’ve already invited Anna over for dinner. We’re gonna fire up that barbeque and have hamburgers and baked potatoes.”

“Sounds lovely.” Castiel raises an eyebrow. “And what about Auntie?”

Dean shrugs and leans his shoulder against the doorframe. “She said she was busy and didn’t want us making her feel old.”

He rolls his eyes and puts his headphones back on. “Well, I look forward to seeing the surprise later.”

The disappointment in Dean’s voice is palpable. “You don’t want to see it right now?”

“I’m _working_, Dean.” Castiel sighs and gestures back at the transcription he was working on. “Unless it’s for a meal or a bathroom break, I would prefer not being interrupted.”

Dean ducks his head. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you later.” He waves and disappears down the hall.

Castiel only manages to turn around and get himself situated again before Dean is back. He leans into view so suddenly that he jerks away in surprise. Dean grins and places a plate, fork, and napkin down next to him. On the plate is a generous slice of apple pie, topped with a hearty dollop of whipped cream. Dean drops a quick kiss to the top of Castiel’s head and is out of the room again before he can even turn around or find his voice to say anything.

Despite the heat filling his face and the way his scalp tingles around where Dean kissed, a brief pie break _does_ sound good. He eats it quietly, savouring the taste, before going back to work.

* * *

“Okay, okay, follow me!”

Dean grabs Castiel’s hand and drags him through the kitchen now that they’ve cleaned up the dishes from dinner. Leftover burger patties and tin-foil wrapped potatoes are still piled on a serving tray, but he leaves that to Sam to wrap and put in the fridge.

Anna grins as Castiel is pulled past her, and she tags along out onto the deck. Dean keeps a tight grip on his hand until they’re down into the yard. There’s a box leaning up against one of the pillars holding up the deck. Then and only then does he drop Castiel’s hand so he can gesture at it enthusiastically.

“Ta-_da_!”

Castiel squints at the box, taking in the picture of a family of four enjoying what must be the contents of the box. “What in the world is _ladder ball_?”

“Oh, it’s fun!” Anna blinks from the top of the deck down next to him, instead of taking the stairs. “I played that before with some of my neighbours.”

“You should have seen how he lit up when we found it at Walmart.” Sam calls from the open kitchen door. “It was _ridiculous_.”

Dean scoffs and starts opening the box. “It’ll be a fun game to play, I promise. _And_ it’ll get you out of the house. What’s not to love about that?”

“Excuse me, but I check the flowers every day.” Castiel crosses his arms defensively, frowning as Dean starts pulling tube after tube out of the box. “And I like reading out on the deck. We’ve spent half of this week outside because the weather has been so nice.”

“Shush.” Anna puts a hand over his mouth briefly before going over to help Dean start putting things together. “Just come help set up the game. We’re going to play it and we’re going to have a ton of fun.”

Part of him wants to argue just for the sake of arguing, but Castiel sighs and steps over to help. He gets handed two packages, each one filled with a set of six balls. Every ball is paired off into a set of two by a string, turning it into something akin to a bolo. Three or the bolos are red and three are gray.

Sam joins them then and starts helping Anna put together all the pieces that Dean dumped out onto the lawn. Castiel stands and watches as Dean breaks down the box and throws it up onto the deck to deal with later. Satisfied, he turns to Castiel and starts opening the packages in his hands.

He drapes the red pairs over one arm and picks up the finished frame. “Cas, follow me.”

Castiel sighs, the gray bolos in hand, and follows. He gets led down the yard until they’re roughly fifteen feet from where Sam and Anna are still finishing up with the last frame. Dean sets the one frame he took and makes sure they’re lined up with the other one. And of course he’s very nit-picky about whether or not it’s balanced properly. Castiel waits patiently, acting put off but secretly he’s amused.

Once he’s satisfied, Dean steps back. There are two bars running across the inside of the frame. The bottom one is white, the middle is black, and then there’s the red top of the frame. Along the red sides of the frame are numbers going from one to twenty-one, and there’s a little white tab on both sides. Dean points to those. “We move this slide for every point we get. The top bar is three points, middle is two points, and the bottom is one. The first to reach twenty-one points without going over wins. Does that make sense?”

Castiel nods. “If I have nineteen, then I need two to win. Three wouldn’t count.”

“Exactly!” He gets a beatific smile in return. “For the balls, you generally throw them underhanded. Bounces _do_ count if you manage to wrap it. Even if you wrap the side of the frame, it’ll count as long as it’s resting on one of the bars. And these hooks keep it from falling off the top one.” Dean taps some small hooks where the top bar curves down into the sides of the frame.”

He hums in understanding and separates one of the grey bolos, swinging it back and forth. “I think I get the gist of it.”

“Here, watch me.” Dean cups a hand around his mouth and shouts to the others. “Ready?”

“Ready!” Sam waves and both he and Anna step away from their frame.

Dean lines himself up with the edge of their rack and points down at his foot. “You’re not allowed to step past it.”

With that, he swings one of his red bolos and lobs it across the yard. It falls a bit short, but has a lucky bounce and wraps around the very bottom rung. Dean grins triumphantly and flicks the number on his side up by one. The second bolo he throws hits the frame, but it doesn’t wrap and falls to the ground off to the side. He curses quietly, though colourfully, and throws the final bolo. It again wraps around the bottom rung.

When he flicks his number up to two, Castiel reaches to move his to two as well. “Whoa, wait.” Dean covers the tab so he can’t move it. “You only move yours if you or Anna scores.”

“I’m on Anna’s team?” Castiel glances across the yard to where both her and Sam are untangling the two bolos from the bottom rung.

“Yup.” Dean nods and steps back. “One member of each team at either side.

“Why am I not on _your_ team.” He tries not to sound like he’s pouting, but he kind of is.

Dean suddenly doesn’t look quite as pleased with himself as he did a moment ago. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck and shrugs. “I guess because I thought it would be more fun for us both to be hanging out on the same side? Otherwise we’d end up shouting to each other across the way.”

Okay, fine. Castiel can’t fault him for _that_ reasoning. He huffs quietly in acknowledgment and steps into place to take up what he assumes is now his turn. Dean brightens, but says nothing as he hefts one of the gray bolos and gives it a few practice swings while waiting for Anna and Sam to get out of the way.

“Alright, go!” Anna waves when they’re clear.

The first throw goes wide and completely misses the frame. Castiel frowns and looks down at the next bolo. “This is harder than it looks.”

“Just try again.” Dean makes an encouraging _go on_ gesture. “You’ll get a feel for the distance within a few throws and then it’s all up to physics.”

Castiel nods and throws the second set. It bounces off the ground in front of the frame, but lands solidly on the bottom bar. They all hold their breath to see if it will slip off, but it remains hooked. Anna claps happily and flicks the counter up by one. He does the same and can’t resist giving Dean a small, smug smile. Which promptly falls into a frown when his third bolo falls short and doesn’t bounce high enough to wrap. It _does_ however, manage to knock the other set hard enough to pull it off the wrong.

Dean winces and claps Castiel on the shoulder. “Sorry, buddy.” He flicks the counter back to zero for him. “But you don’t get the point if you knock it off.”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to swear quietly to himself. It just makes Dean laugh as he returns to his side of the frame. Sam and Anna have already gathered all their bolos, and Sam steps up to take his turn. Castiel cups his hands around his mouth to give a word of warning; “_No telekinesis_!”

Sam makes a show of rolling his eyes, but his first throw overshoots the frame entirely. His second falls too short, but it does knock against the frame. The third wraps around the bottom rung cleanly. He gives a triumphant shout and Anna has the gall to actually _high-five_ him.

Dean gathers his bolos with a grin. “See? He’s always had a good eye for distance.”

Castiel scoffs as Dean ups his counter by _three_. They now have _three_ points and Castiel vehemently hates each and every one of them. “And I suppose that his next shot will be a two pointer until he figures out the distance to get the three?”

“Possibly.”

“That’s why you wanted him on your team!” Castiel points accusingly at him. “It wasn’t _just_ so we could stand together.”

Dean shrugs and jiggles the red bolo in his hand. “Hey, I could have totally taken you over here and had Anna on my team.”

“And yet you _didn’t_. I see right through your –” He jerks away from their frame when the first gray bolo set comes whipping over, missing the frame completely. Castiel glares at Anna and she just grins; impatiently wiggling the other two bolos at her side.

Both Castiel and Dean take a few steps back, and she throws the next set just as hard as she did the first. Once again, it misses the frame entirely. The third bolo bangs off the side of it and damn near knocks the thing off its square base.

After a moment of staring at it, Castiel turns to her and gestures wildly at the grey balls littering the grass. “I _thought_ you said you played this before!”

She shrugs, but she’s still grinning like an idiot. “I didn’t say I was any good!”

Dean clearly wants to be punched in the arm given that he’s not even _trying_ to hide how he’s giggling. Castiel can only glare at him crosses his arms and watches him collects the bolos. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Cas.” He tries for a calming tone, but it just makes Castiel’s feathers fluff. “We can switch up the teams in the next game.”

“Just. Go.” Castiel snatches his three bolos when they’re offered to him.

He is, perhaps, a bit of a sore loser. Especially when it turns out that Dean is also pretty good. Either his throws ricochet off the frame, or the wrap cleanly around one of the bars. Castiel gets better as time goes on and at least manages to successfully aim, though his throws don’t always land on the rung he’s aiming for. Sam is fantastic and consistently gets points, once he’s got the distance figured out.

Anna, however, is an outlier. She misses every throw. Every. Single. Throw.

It comes as little surprise to anyone that the Winchesters have a crushing victory. Dean _radiates_ smugness as he turns to Castiel, hands on his hips and chest thrown out. “And _that’s_ for kicking our asses at every board game or video game in existence.”

“Not in _existence_.” Castiel lifts his nose in the air and turns to snub him. “Just the ones that I happen to own and have mastered.” He crosses his arms and only looks at Dean from the corner of his eye. “And I suppose that the next game you decide to challenge me to will also be a physical outdoors game that I’ve never played before? Nothing like steamrolling over newbies to make yourself feel good.”

In a fit of impulsive childishness, Castiel ends his wounded mocking by sticking his tongue out.

Dean only grins wider. “Next time, I’m going to buy a basketball hop and I’m going to install it right above the garage door.”

Castiel turns a glare on him, but Dean just grins back challengingly.

For a moment, he actually considers tackling Dean, but then thinks better of it. While he might have the upper hand in strength, he doesn’t have the _skill_ to use it appropriately. Dean is trained in hand-to-hand combat and likely deals with people stronger than him all the time. He would, undoubtedly, be very difficult to rough house with.

Instead, Castiel knows of a much better way to punish him. Without another word, he turns on his heel and marches across the lawn to where Anna and Sam are chatting amicably over their frame. “Sam, you’re going over there and you’re on _my_ team now.”

He doesn’t look at all surprised by the announcement. “Sure.”

Anna’s bottom lip juts out in a pout as she hands the gray bolos over to Sam. “Are you kicking me off your team because I suck?”

Castiel nods, too annoyed to try and spare her feelings at the moment. “Yes, but only to punish Dean.”

Her eyes light up with amusement, but Sam beats her to the question. “Did he say something that he shouldn’t have?”

“He’s not a gracious winner.” Castiel takes the gray bolos from Anna and hands them to Sam. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

That gets a snort of laughter and a nod of understanding. Sam swings the bolos beside him as he crosses the yard to where Dean has wilted noticeably next to the other frame, a pout on his lips too. He says something to Dean that earns him a punch in the shoulder. Castiel just barely catches something about pulling pigtails, but it makes no sense to him.

Now that the teams are _fair_ – to a degree – Castiel rolls his shoulders and flicks the counter back to zero. He’s going to get good at this game, and then he’s going to _crush_ Dean in every consecutive round.

* * *

** _Monday – August 20th, 2018_ **

Castiel closes his suitcase and, with some difficulty, zips it shut. It belonged to his parents and he’s never had the opportunity to use it. Neither has he ever packed for anything before. He had to consult Anna and Aunt Amara about what was an appropriate amount of clothing to bring. Since he doesn’t know exactly how long he’ll be away, though Castiel is hoping that it will only be a week, he didn’t want to over pack or find himself missing necessary items.

Anna, bless her heart, went to the lengths of actually making him a list of everything he should bring. And that’s how he ended up packing three pairs of jeans, a pair of sweatpants, a pair of pajama pants, about four pairs of socks, and enough underwear to wear a new pair every day of the week. His shirts were a little trickier, since he’s not sure how often he’ll have his wings out. He packed three of both altered and unaltered t-shirts, and a couple nicer shirts – just in case.

Of course his heavy overcoat, hot for the end of August but worth it to remain hidden, is already draped over the edge of the bed next to the suitcase. His binder is already on and he’s dressed in an unaltered t-shirt over his wings and a comfortable pair of jeans. It’s been a decade or two since Castiel was last on the road for _hours_ at a time. He’s not sure how well he’ll fair with a nearly six hour drive to Sioux Falls and he wants to be as comfortable as possible.

His heart doesn’t really climb into his throat until he’s put the suitcase next to his bedroom door – right next to the smaller carry-on sized case that matches. In that one he packed his laptop, the headphones he uses for transcribing recordings, and the pedal that controls the transcription program. He installed the program onto his laptop the other day so he could continue his work on the road. There are a couple reference books in there too, but Castiel is confident that anything else he needs he can just look up online. The internet really has been a blessing for people in his line of work.

Castiel sits heavily on the edge of his bed and stares at the two bags. There really isn’t any better time than now to go with them. Dean explicitly said that they were going to be heading back to Sioux Falls after leaving here so they can swap out their clothing, drop off some things that they’ve bought during their travels, and to check in with Bobby and Pamela. They’re actually going _home_ and not on a hunt or heading off trying to follow their dad’s trail. How could he pass up this opportunity?

He only had his toiletries to pack up and add to his suitcase. The rest he had packed last night. The Winchesters usually leave around mid-morning, so as not to fully interrupt his work day. As far as Castiel knows, they’re just packing up the last of their stuff and are planning to head out shortly. That’s how it always goes after breakfast on the morning they leave.

This is it.

He’s going to do it.

_He’s going to do it_.

Yes, absolutely, Castiel is definitely going to do it. He’s absolutely _terrified_ of the thought, but he can’t bring himself _not_ to. For months now he’s wanted to do this, and the desire has only grown stronger with every passing visit. He _wants_ to spend more time with Dean and Sam, but he feels like he’s going to throw up. Sadly, he doesn’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.

If they’re lucky, maybe he won’t have a panic attack for the _entire_ drive to Sioux Falls. Once he’s able to get behind closed doors and let his wings out where no one can see them – once he’s able to _breathe_ again, then maybe it won’t be so bad.

The knock at the door startles Castiel enough that he jerks so hard he nearly slides off the edge of the bed. He rights himself and clears his throat. “Come in.”

Dean swings the door open and takes a few steps into the room. “Hey, Cas. We’re all packed up and ready to –” His sentence stops short as he takes in first Castiel, then his coat. Slowly, he looks down at the suitcases next to him, and then back up again. “Oh my God.”

Castiel swallows thickly and tries for a smile, but it probably comes off more sickly than anything else.

Without another word, Dean crosses the short distance between them to stand in front of Castiel. He puts one hand on his shoulder and the other cups his cheek to tilt his face up and it’s a struggle not to press into that gentle touch. “Dude. I know I’m always asking you to come, but you don’t –”

This time, Castiel is the one to cut him off. “I _do_ want to come.”

His hands come up of their own accord to curve over Dean’s hips. He tugs him forward, suddenly, into the vee of his legs, if only because he’s craving the need for physical comfort. Once Dean is close enough, Castiel wraps his arms around his waist and hides his face against his stomach.

“I’m just _terrified_.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Cas.” Dean’s arms come to rest around his shoulders, and one hand begins carding through his hair. If his wings were free at the moment, Castiel doesn’t doubt that he would be petting them too.

It takes a few minutes before he manages to start to relax under that steady, gentle touch. And that’s about when Dean decides to drop a bit of a bomb on him.

“Would it help if we _pretended_ to register you?”

Castiel jerks back from the hug with a frown. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Dean shifts on his feet, suddenly looking a little uncertain. “You’re – uh – you’re not the first _unregistered_ that Sam’s been able to pick out before. Bobby and Pam may or may not have a bit of a side business involved with helping hide them.”

In over ten months of knowing each other, this is the absolute first that Castiel is hearing of it. His jaw drops as Dean launches into an explanation of how they have a tattoo artist who can give them a tattoo corresponding to their mutation, and how they make fake IDs for them too.

“And for those who don’t want a real tattoo, we have stencils and an airbrush. No one ever really _runs_ your ID, you know? They just glance at it to make sure that you’ve got one.” He pauses. “_I’ve_ never had mine run, at least. Had to show it plenty of times, though. Only people who actually check it in a system are the people you have your evaluation – which you wouldn’t be doing anyways since you’d actually still be unregistered.”

Dean looks down at him with a grin. “I have a set of the stencils and an airbrush in the trunk if you want to give it a try? That way if anyone ever questions your wings, you can just show them the tattoo or the card – once we get you one – and then you go on your merry way.”

“Why haven’t you told me about this before?” It sounds like it would help a lot of his anxiety issues about going out in public. Although, it might just replace them with a whole new set of worries about being caught with a fake.

At least Dean has the decency to look shamefaced for keeping such a secret from him. “I was planning on it, actually. Uh – today? Kinda, like, my last-ditch effort at convincing you to come with us.” He taps him on the nose. “If it wasn’t going to work, then I was out of ideas.”

Castiel wrinkles his nose and continues to frown up at him. “I don’t know. It sounds highly illegal.”

“No more illegal than being an _unregistered_.”

A fair point.

He mulls it over for a few moments before shrugging. “I suppose we can try it?” What could it hurt? And, if he finds it easier on his nerves to go out with a fake ID and an airbrushed tattoo as his shield as well as his coat, then maybe he’ll make it a _real_ tattoo. He would hate it indefinitely, but it could be worth it.

Dean grins and ducks out from between Castiel’s arms. “Great! Go wait in the main bathroom. I’ll go get the kit from the car and we’ll get you done up nice and pretty.” He’s gone and down the hallway, already calling from Sam to come and get Castiel’s bags, before he can say anything more.

His legs feel oddly weak as he stands up and wobbles out into the hall. Sam meets him in front of the bathroom door. “Are you really coming with us?”

“Just to Sioux Falls, and only for a little while.” Castiel shrugs and resists the urge to hug himself or go back to his room and curl up in bed. “I don’t know if I could stand to be gone for _weeks_.”

“However long you’re comfortable with.” Sam puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. “We’ll turn around and bring you right back before we even get home if you suddenly change your mind. I promise.”

Castiel covers his hand. “Thank you.”

Once he enters the bathroom, he puts the lid down on the toilet and sits there. His fingers drum a nervous pattern on his thighs and he only stops to wave stiffly as Sam goes by with both of his bags and his trench coat thrown over one arm. That sends his anxiety ratcheting up another few notches and he starts counting to try and ease his mind while he waits for Dean.

He isn’t even into the fifties by the time he shows up with a little black case in hand. Dean is practically glowing with delight as he puts it on the counter and opens it. From inside, he takes out an airbrush. He snaps a little black bottle into the well on the top of it and checks the spiral cord connecting it to the case. Satisfied, he sets it aside and pulls out a number of pieces of paper.

“If all you’ve got are wings and a little super strength, then I think we can get away with you being a _Class One_.” Dean taps the paper against his chin while he thinks. “Where do you want it? The same place as me?”

Castiel shakes his head. He’s already got his binder on and he doesn’t want to have to go through the effort of not only taking it off, but keeping it off so he doesn’t smudge the ink before it dries. After a moment, he takes off his t-shirt and points to a space on the left side of his stomach, just under his ribs. “Here is fine.”

Dean closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He nods. “Let’s swap. You stand, I sit.”

They do switch positions, but Dean ends up moving to sit on the edge of the tub so Castiel can hold the shower bar with his left hand to keep his side stretched out for the tattoo. The stencil turns out to actually be a _sticker_ and Dean peels it to apply the empty circle to his skin. He smoothes it out with his thumbs, and they definitely linger, rubbing over more skin than stencil at times.

Castiel doesn’t complain. It’s strangely comforting.

There’s another portion to the sticker that Dean peels off. This time it’s a solid circle with the _C-1_ cut out of the center of it. He has to adjust it a few times before he’s satisfied that it lines up with the first portion of the sticker.

Finally, he sits back. “Okay, that should be good.” He fetches the airbrush from the sink and sets it up on the edge of the tub and flips a switch to get the air compressor rumbling. “This might be a little ticklish, and probably a little cold. Sam always giggles like a baby whenever I tattoo him.”

He looks down with a frown. “Why would you tattoo him?”

Dean shrugs and holds down a button on the airbrush to start the spray. First, he does it into a dirty napkin in the case, clearing the brush. “Sometimes we get bored when we’re sitting in a motel room on surveillance. And I like to test out my skills every so often.”

That piques Castiel’s interest. “You’re an artist?”

“Uh – sometimes?” There’s colour in Dean’s ears when he shrugs this time. “Nothing good or anything.”

“He’s just being modest.” Sam startles them both when he speaks from the doorway. For such a big man, he can be very quiet when he wants to be. “You should see his sketchbook. He does some really nice landscapes.”

Dean shoots Sam a dirty look before aiming the airbrush at Castiel’s side. The first blast of cool, inky air against his skin makes him jump a little. He spreads his hand out over Castiel’s stomach, thumb and forefinger bracketing the stencil. With a soft ‘_shhh_’, he starts working at filling out the lines.

“Has he told you about the tattoo artist that Bobby and Pam have?” Sam crosses the bathroom to sit down on the abandoned toilet.

Castiel nods, looking down to watch what Dean’s doing. “I don’t know if I would want a _permanent_ one.”

“At least if you had one, then you could flash it if anyone ever started to hassle you about your wings.” Dean pauses with a thoughtful hum. “Well, in my experience they don’t really bother you about it. They just treat you pretty coldly.”

That doesn’t sound much better in Castiel’s opinion. He shrugs and firmly focuses on the tiled pattern surrounding the shower walls. “I’m fine with the way people treat me now.”

“What people?” Dean grins up at him cheekily. “You never go out.”

It’s almost absentmindedly that Castiel brings up his other hand to flick him in the forehead. “I go out a lot more now than I did before.” Primarily because the Winchesters somehow manage to talk him into it every single time.

Do they even realize how much of an impact they’ve had on his life?

Dean hums in agreement and turns off the air compressor. He puts the airbrush down on top of the kit and begins the careful process of picking at the corner of the stencil to peel it off. They all seem to hold their breath while he does that. Sam exchanges the used stencils for a damp cloth to clean up any edges that bled, but from Castiel’s point of view, it doesn’t look like there are any. It looks pretty nice – though fairly shiny.

But then Dean is taking care of that a moment later as he leans forward to blow gently across the tattoo. It sends goosebumps skittering across Castiel’s skin and his wings shiver as best as they can under his binder. Dean just hums and does it again, a twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at him. Castiel pointedly looks away, valiantly trying to keep the blush out of his cheeks. It’s not working well – especially when one of Dean’s warm hands curls around his hip and his first reaction is to lean into the touch.

And then Sam clears his throat from the toilet. “So, how did it turn out?”

He jumps, pulling back from Dean even as he jerks back himself, his hand coming up to rest on his chest. “Holy _fuck_, Sammy. Don’t scare me like that.” Clearly Castiel wasn’t the only one who momentarily forgot that he was there.

Sam just looks amused as he leans over to get a look. “That’s looking pretty darn authentic. We can touch it up when it starts to fade.”

“I just hope that I don’t have to show it to anyone.”

Castiel lets go of the shower bar and reaches for his shirt, but Dean slaps his hand. “Not yet. Let it keep drying for a few more minutes. And I doubt anyone is going to ask to see it.” He starts packing up the airbrush kit, turning it back on to clear the valve. “You’re going to hide your wings until we get to Sioux Falls anyway, right? No one there is going to ask about it, I’ll make sure of it.”

“I know.” Castiel catches Dean’s hand as he stands. “I trust you.”

Dean squeezes his hand as he meets his eyes. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“Neither of us would.” Sam adds, sounding just as serious.

Castiel actually smiles at them both. He might be terrified, but he believes them and he’s not worried about this. Or rather, not nearly as much as he was before. One might even say that he’s almost beginning to look forward to this.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Monday – August 20th, 2018_ **

To Castiel’s great surprise – and really, he shouldn’t be surprised at all – Anna is sitting on the front step when he finally makes it outside with Dean and Sam. The airbrushed tattoo is well and truly dry under his shirt, and he made sure his instructional notes were posted in full view on the wall in the hallway. They’re even printed on brightly coloured paper so no one can accidentally overlook them.

Anna looks over her shoulder when the door opens, and she’s on her feet in an instant. Her smiles grows even wider when she looks him over, taking in his coat and everything. “Oh _wow_.” She holds her hands together in front of her chest. “You’re actually going through with it, aren’t you?”

Castiel almost feels insulted. “Of course I am.” He crosses his arms and looks away. “I said I was going to do this, and now I _am_.”

A look of _delight_ passes over Dean’s face. He slings an arm across Anna’s shoulders with a bright smile. “What are you doing here, Angel? We weren’t expecting to see you again before we left.”

Anna rolls her eyes and shrugs his arm off. “I came to push him –” She jerks a thumb at Castiel. “– out the door in case he chickened out and tried to handcuff himself to the bedpost.”

“Handcuffs?” Sam scoffs and smiles when all three of them turn to him. “Those are _so_ easy to pick. They wouldn’t have stopped us if we wanted Cas to come with us that badly.” When Castiel raises his eyebrows, Sam backpedals quickly and raises his hands. “Not that we would force you to come with us if you changed your mind!”

“Aw look, you made him flustered.” Anna reaches up to pat Sam on the cheek. “Don’t worry, big guy, we trust you. We wouldn’t be letting him go with you two if we didn’t.”

Castiel sighs loudly, if only to squash down on the bubble of embarrassment he can feel starting to heat his face. “Can we _please_ get a move on?” And hopefully they do that before his nerves climb too high and he decides to change his mind.

The look Sam throws his way clearly says that his empathy antenna is fully active and he’s well aware of how Castiel is starting to feel. “Sounds like a plan.” He nods and pulls Anna into a loose hug. “We’ll be seeing you.”

“You had better text me every step of the way.” She hugs him back, though the ten inches of height difference puts her face in the center of his chest. “I _need_ to have this documented. Cas hasn’t been on a trip _ever_ and I’m so mad that I’m not going to be there to witness this whole thing in person.”

While Castiel had expected her to say something like that, he still doesn’t like _hearing_ it. He’s older than her, and yet she treats him like a child sometimes. It irks him. Especially when done in front of his _friends_. He crosses his arms and glares at them as Anna switches from hugging one Winchester to hugging the other.

Dean pats her on the top of her head. “You’re more than welcome to come with us if you want to. I’m sure Cas would love to have you along.”

Castiel bites the inside of his cheek, because he hates how _right _Dean is. “Of course I would, but Anna has a job that she can’t just _leave_.”

She sighs and looks sadly in the direction of town. “That’s God’s own truth.”

The hug turns into another arm-around-Anna’s-shoulder situation. Dean ruffles her hair slightly with his other hand, which doesn’t do much given the tight ponytail her hair is pulled into today. “Oh well, kiddo. Maybe next time.”

“Kiddo? I’m only three years younger than you.” She elbows him in the ribs and steps out from under his arm. “But you bet your tight butt that I’m going to try _very_ hard to get some kind of vacation time. I haven’t gone on a trip in almost as long as Cas.”

After a beat of silence, Anna grabs Castiel around the waist and buries her face in his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you.” She squeezes tightly, likely creasing a few of his longer feathers. “You had better take care, okay?”

“Of course.” He kisses the top of her head and returns the hug. “I promise that I’ll text you and Auntie every day. And I’ll be fine. I don’t think I could be any safer than traveling with those two.”

As if admitting that out loud wasn’t bad enough, Dean steps up next to Sam and blows him a kiss from over Anna’s shoulder. Sam, not one to be left out when Dean is being silly, also winks and gives him a wiggly finger wave with his hand up close to this face. He even pops one of his legs up, and that’s just – seriously? They’re ridiculous.

Castiel rolls his eyes and steps out of Anna’s hug, being sure to keep a hand on her shoulder to keep her from trying to hug him again. He has the feeling that she’s going to be clingy if he allows her to be. “I left detailed instructions posted inside on how to take care of the house plants. Auntie said that she would handle the gardens, so you don’t have to worry about those.”

Anna stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I can’t promise that the house plants will still be alive when you get back, but I’ll do my best.”

That makes him pause. “No, never mind.” Castiel shakes his head. “Just let Auntie deal with it.” He’ll only be gone a week or so and none of his indoor plants are so sensitive as to just _die_ in that time, but he’s not going to take that risk.

“Nope!” Anna taps him on the nose. “You said I get to handle the house plants, and now you can’t take it back!”

Dean snorts a laugh and slaps a hand over his mouth when Castiel turns his frown on him. But that almost-laugh is enough to distract Anna from gloating. Instead of continuing, she loops her arm through Castiel’s and starts leading him toward the car. “Don’t worry about things back here. Mom and I will take care of everything here. All I want you to do is just take care of _yourself_, okay?”

“I’ll be just fine, thank you.” And he has no choice but to think that or he might think himself straight into an anxiety attack.

In all honesty, Castiel really _isn’t_ worried about whether or not he’ll be fine. It’s essentially guaranteed given that he’ll be with Dean and Sam. He’s going because he thinks he’s ready for something like this. The amount of growth he’s gone through in the last several months is a testament to that.

And – and he doesn’t want to be _alone_ anymore.

Castiel enjoys Dean and Sam’s company to the point that he actually _dreads_ the silence when they leave. It literally _hurts_ whenever they go. Half the reason he decided to go with them is purely to avoid saying ‘_goodbye_’. That and now he’ll know exactly when they’ll be come back here – because he’ll be with them this time around.

But he’s going to take that self-confession to his _grave_.

Anna walks him straight to the back seat of the Impala. She even opens the door for him. Sam takes his usual place in the front passenger seat; despite every attempt he made while they were still inside to convince Castiel to take it. But he _insisted_ on taking the back seat, if only because he doesn’t want his presence to fully disrupt their usual post-visit rituals and banter.

Dean gets into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. The window is down and he leans out it with a big smile. “I promise we’ll take _really_ good care of him.”

“You had better, or I’m going to hunt you both down myself and we’ll find out definitively exactly _what_ I can do with my powers.” Anna is a little rougher when she taps him on the nose, and there’s absolutely no levity in her voice. It actually sends a chill down Castiel’s spine.

Surprisingly, Dean isn’t even fazed by it. “Duly noted.” He salutes with two fingers to the forehead and a pop of the mouth. “Now watch those tootsies of yours. We’re rolling out.” To accentuate his point, he revs the Impala’s engine.

With one last kiss blown through the window, Dean puts the car in reverse and starts pulling away from the garage. Anna blinks out of the way; reappearing on the front step. She waves excitedly as the Impala is put into drive to go around the bend. Castiel turns to watch her – first through the side window, and then the back window.

He watches until they’re out of sight of the house, and his heart crawls ever higher in his throat. That final glimpse of Anna through the trees was the last he’s going to see of her for _at least _a week. Castiel can’t remember the last time he didn’t see her every other day. And it takes everything in his power to _not _freak out when he realizes that.

They pull out onto the highway and Sam glances back at him. The concerned bow to his brows is enough to confirm that his antenna is still on. Normally Castiel doesn’t like knowing that Sam can feel his emotions, but this is really the best time for him to be using his empathetic powers. If Castiel is going to have a freak out about this trip, it will most likely happen between home and the state border.

Or, in reality, it could happen at any point during the drive.

Basically, Castiel is a hair trigger of nerves just waiting to go off, and Sam is their unofficial warning system for if he’s building himself up into the mother of all panic attacks.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m –” Castiel pauses and meets Dean’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. Dean gives him a reassuring smile, and it immediately makes him feel better. He nods and manages a smile of his own to turn on Sam. “I’m fine for now, but you should check back with me in about an hour, because that will be the point when I’ve been on the longest drive I can remember having.”

“Well, let’s make the best of your first road trip while we can.” Dean grins brightly and slaps at Sam’s thigh. “Do it. Do it!”

“Oh for –” Sam rolls his eyes, but he leans forward and reaches under his seat.

He comes up with a shoebox in hand. Castiel sits forward to watch him shuffle through a number of – Are those cassette tapes? Do they still make those? Sam picks one and pops it into the tape deck. After some clanking and whirring, classic rock starts playing and Dean turns the volume up until the car is practically vibrating with the base beat.

Dean sings along loudly (and surprisingly well) while drumming on the steering wheel, and Sam turns in his seat to mouth an apology. Castiel doesn’t mind, though he does make a show of rolling his eyes as he settles back in his seat. He’s not as familiar with the song as either of the Winchesters, given how Sam starts singing along too. This isn’t the first time he’s heard Dean’s choice of music, but normally Dean listens to it with earbuds while he’s doing chores. And he’s never sung out loud to it before.

The singing is something to focus on, and Castiel enjoys listening to it more than he thought he would. It’s a good distraction as he watches the landscape going by.

* * *

They’re forty-five minutes into the drive when they pass the _Missouri_ border. Instead of actually going into _Kansas City_, they stick to the outskirts and turn North onto Highway 435. Castiel takes passing the sign as one of the moments when he should send off a message to his group text with Anna and his aunt – just to let them know that he’s gotten this far without breaking down and making them turn around.

An off ramp is coming up and Dean takes his foot off the gas. “Anybody need a break? I can pull off here for the first gas station we see and stretch our legs.”

“I’m good.” Castiel shakes his head. “Do you want to stop?”

After a shared look with Sam, where he shakes his head, Dean starts speeding them up again to join the flow of traffic. “Nope! We’re all good up here.”

Castiel watches as _Kansas City_ falls behind them. He’s never even been anywhere near it before, but maybe one day he’ll actually be able to visit it properly. It’s not really on a list of places that he wants to go, but it would be nice for him to out grow his anxieties and be able to start _travelling_. But that is still a long way off, given how he’s handling this trip so far.

The longer they drive, the more frequently the spikes of panic occur. Whenever he can feel one climbing higher and higher, Castiel closes his eyes and counts through it – or he watches the scenery and counts the passing telephone poles, or cars passing in the other direction. It helps. Somewhat. He hasn’t had them turn around yet, so that must mean something, right?

And Anna is – Well, she isn’t helping. _At all_.

Every hour that ticks by comes with a text message as she checks in. It’s possible that she’s even _more_ of a worry wart than he is. Castiel is almost touched by how concerned she is, if he wasn’t so _annoyed_ about how she repeatedly sends texts until someone answers her. If Castiel isn’t the one who does it, then Sam does – because of course Anna had to create a group chat between the four of them, and Dean can’t answer since he’s the one doing all the driving.

But does she really need to be so _thorough_? Castiel is a grown man! He lives on his own, buys his own groceries, washes his own clothes, and keeps his home clean and tidy. Just because he has anxiety and doesn’t travel anywhere doesn’t mean that she needs to digitally hover around his head like a helicopter mom. There have been _so_ many times in his life when he’s been riddled with nerves and he’s gotten through it just fine with or without her. He can do this too.

And not _just_ because he has Dean and Sam here with him.

* * *

Three hours into the drive finds them at a gas station in _Omaha_, _Nebraska_. Dean fills the tank and Castiel waits in the back seat as Sam goes inside to use the bathroom. His legs are jittery with the need to stretch them, but he’s not _quite_ ready to get out of the car yet.

Castiel’s phone buzzes with a message from Sam and he opens the door. “He says there’s only one other person inside, aside from the employee.”

“Great.” Dean glances at the pump, watching the numbers tick up. “Do you want to go in before I’m done? Sam can guard the bathroom door as you do your business.”

“I’ll wait for you.” He slides to the edge of the seat and stretches his legs out the door. “Are we going to get some snacks? We’ve gone through everything we brought.”

Dean looks at him sharply, eyebrows raised. “Everything? _Really_? Have you been panic-snacking back there when I’m not paying attention?”

That’s a little _too_ on the nose and Castiel finds it difficult to meet his eyes. He clears his throat and drums his fingers on the edge of the seat. “I’ll pay for new snacks.”

“If that’s what you wanna do.” The pump clunks heavily once the tank is full and Dean hangs it up properly. “I’m not going to stop you, but you’re going to have to come in with me for that.” He offers his hand, as if to help Castiel out of the car. “You cool with that?”

“It’s no different than a grocery store.” Castiel takes a deep breath, but the grip he takes on Dean’s hand is maybe a hair too tight as he stands up. “Even less people than that.”

And yet he still doesn’t give up the death grip he has on Dean’s hand for the whole walk into the gas station. When they get inside, it’s to find Sam already in the process of filling his arms with snacks, despite not having been a part of their snack conversation. He waves at them as Dean all but beelines straight for the bathroom.

“You go first.” He squeezes Castiel’s hand at the door. “I’ll wait right here, and then you can snack shop with Sam when it’s my turn.”

Castiel is, surprisingly, not as on edge as he remembers being on his first trip to the grocery store with Anna after his parents’ death. He uses the facility with minimal anxiety, though it’s weird using a public bathroom for the first-time in... ever. And then his anxiety starts climbing up again when he heads out to where Sam is shopping. The other customer is gone now, but the attendant is watching them and that’s not really helping him. It’s still not _have-a-breakdown _type nervous, but Castiel is not comfortable with this amount of attention.

“I’m paying, so pick whatever you want.” He keeps his voice quiet as he grabs a tube of _Pringles _and three different bags of beef jerky, because he knows Dean likes them. “But I don’t recommend liquids. I don’t think Dean is planning another stop between here and _Sioux Falls_.”

Sam looks down at the three large bottles of water he has tucked under one arm. He shrugs and takes everything to the counter. “I’m going to risk it. If we need a pee-break, any bush on the side of the road will do. We’re men. It’s easy for us.”

Castiel snorts and passes Sam the chips and jerky. “Speak for yourself. I have a hard-enough time using a public restroom, let alone going in a _bush_.”

“What are we talking about?” Dean appears at his shoulder with a grin. “I like bush. What kind of bush are we talking about? A common shrub or something fancy like hydrangea or dogwood?”

The gas had been paid for at the pump, so they only need to pay for the snacks. Castiel passes Sam some cash, but he turns at Dean with raised eyebrows. “Since when did you become a shrubbery savant?”

Dean shrugs and accepts the bag of snacks Sam passes back to them. “I’m a wealth of knowledge. You’ve only scraped the surface of the random trivia I know.”

With that, he takes Castiel’s free hand and leads him back outside. Instead, however, Dean directs him to the front passenger seat and even opens the door for him. Castiel raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t complain. He assumes Sam and Dean must have discussed this at some point. Confirmed all the more because Sam comes out after them and gets into the backseat without hesitation. That settles that and Castiel gets into the front.

They break out the snacks as soon as they pull back onto the highway. Castiel powers through half the tube of _Pringles_ before he clears his throat. “I spy with my little eye something that is orange.”

He’s answered with silence. And then Sam is leaning forward. “Is it that farmhouse over there?”

“Nope.”

“Dude, it’s obviously that flag on the back of that truck.” Dean snorts and points through the windshield to a pick-up truck a few cars ahead of them in the other lane.

“Also wrong.”

Sam hums and scoots back to the side of the car to press his face against the window. “Oh, that tractor!”

“Incorrect.”

“What the hell, Cas.” Dean grumbles, but he’s glancing around too. It’s still a few minutes before he points through the window again. “Holy shit, it’s that _New York_ license plate!”

Castiel fishes a strip of jerky out of one of the bags and holds it out. “Congratulations, you’ve won.”

Dean whoops and leans over to bite the jerky out of Castiel’s hand rather than take it like a normal human being. Sam huffs and flops back. “Whatever. I’m still winning at _Zitch-Dog_.”

“That’s coz’ you’re _cheating_.” Dean, ever one with manners, speaks around half the jerky sticking out of his mouth. “Using your empathy bullshit to pinpoint which cars have dog feelings in ‘em and then pointing them out before Cas and me can even see them.”

Sam is suspiciously silent at the accusation and he refuses to meet Castiel’s eyes when he turns to look at him. He’s half tempted to berate him for cheating, but then he spots a car change lanes well behind them to get around someone else and he points them out. “Yellow car.”

“Son of a _bitch_.” Dean glances in the rear-view. “Yup, he’s right. Mark him down for another point, Sammy. Why are you so good at spotting yellow cars but not dogs, Cas?”

“I make it a point not to look into the other cars.” Castiel shrugs and turns forward again. “If I don’t look at them, then they won’t be looking at me.” He holds up his hand when Dean opens his mouth. “I know the logic is flawed, but let me have it.”

There’s a rustle of paper in the back as Sam opens the notebook where Castiel had previously been keeping their scores. “No wonder you’re losing at _Zitch-Dog_.”

“But he’s winning at _Yellow Car_ and _Eye-Spy_.” Dean sighs and slumps slightly. “And I’m not winning at _anything_. Am I, Sammy?”

After a moment of silence and more page flipping, Sam holds the book out far enough for both of them to see. “You’re winning at the license plate game. But I’m giving _New York_ to Cas because he saw it first with _Eye-Spy_.”

They’ve been playing a variety of road games for a while now. It came about at first with _Eye-Spy_ and then Dean had asked if anyone had ever played _Zitch-Dog_. That led into a half hour conversation about _How I Met Your Mother_ because Dean has binge watched every TV show to mankind and Castiel has, as of yet, been unable to find something he _hasn’t _watched. And though Castiel has never watched _How I Met Your Mother_ himself, it was one of Anna’s favourite TV shows while it was airing. Right up until the ending, at least.

Castiel knew enough from Anna to be able to maintain the conversation, but mentioning the ending brought all three of them into another half hour of bitching about shows that had less than stellar endings. It was a good means of passing the time and distracting him from noticing just how far they were getting from home. That conversation ended when they pulled into the gas station.

The next conversation that they fall into, in between their road games, is more reminiscing about shows they watched while growing up. But it does help to pass the time. So much so that Castiel is actually caught by surprise when Dean pulls the car onto the side of the road shortly after they cross a bridge.

“Why are we stopping?” He looks out the window and frowns at the closely mown grass that slopes down to a wire fence. There’s some bushes on the other side of it, but nothing close enough that he would judge acceptable as a place for any of them to go to the bathroom. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope!” Dean turns the car off and grins brightly at him. “It’s just time for a photo op.” He gestures at a sign a few yards ahead of where they’ve stopped.

The _Welcome to South Dakota_ sign is small, but it stands out. Castiel groans at the image of Mount Rushmore. “You’re joking.”

“Sammy, get your phone.” Without waiting for either of them, Dean opens his door and gets out of the car. There’s a certain bounce to his step as he heads over to the sign.

“He’s not going to let this go, Cas.” Sam sighs and scoots over to get out the passenger side door. “Anna probably put him up to this, and neither of us is going to get out of this until he gets his pictures.”

Castiel focuses on being annoyed with Anna (and Dean, to an extent) to keep himself from thinking about all the people driving by. He grumbles quietly to himself as he gets out of the car and trails after Sam to go join Dean under the sign.

Dean bumps shoulders with him a few times as they get situated. Sam takes a few pictures to prove that yes, they did manage to reach South Dakota without incident. And then Dean switches with him so Castiel can get a picture with Sam. After a couple of those, Dean takes out his own phone and takes a quick selfie of the three of them with the sign.

He’s clearly pleased with himself as he returns Sam’s phone and starts tapping away at his own, humming all the way back to the car. “There we go!” Dean holds his phone up triumphantly before getting back into the car. “I sent everything off to Anna so she’ll stop climbing my ass about not sending enough pictures. She’s acting like we didn’t just see her five hours ago.”

Sighing, Castiel slips back into the front seat. He plucks Dean’s phone out of his hand and quickly types out a few messages to Anna, since the conversation with her is still open. Dean hesitates only a moment before he starts the car and they get ready to pull back onto the I-29 highway.

** _Stop harassing my friends!_ **

** _You don’t need to keep bothering them for pictures  
or updates._ **

**😠😠😠**

** _Everything is FINE!_ **   
_Sent 3:32 pm_

He hands the phone back to Dean, but it buzzes only a moment later. Dean unlocks it with the swipe of his thumb and hands it back. “I think that’s meant for you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, because this can’t be good. He frowns down at her messages and reads them.

_Sam sent me the other pictures like a good boy._

_Looking good you guys!_ _♥_

_Keep it up and you might even go on a hunt with them  
one of these days!_

Actually, that does make him pause. Castiel has never really put much thought into exactly where or what he wants to do when travelling with Dean and Sam. It should have occurred to him that maybe at some point he would have to go on a hunt with them. They travel _for work_, after all. Most of what they do is very different from just going back to _Sioux Falls_ like they’re doing now.

He stares at her messages for a few minutes before glancing at Dean. “Anna says that if this trip goes well, then I should start going on hunts with you.”

Dean looks at him so sharply that the car even swerves slightly with it. He quickly looks back at the road, but even Sam has gone suspiciously silent in the back seat. When Castiel glances back at him, Sam is holding himself very still and he’s making eye contact with Dean in the rear-view mirror.

It takes a bit before Dean actually says anything in response. “Are – What – Is that –” He stops and clears his throat. “I mean, is that something you’d want to do?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Castiel looks back down at his phone and realizes that the screen has timed out in the time he’s been waiting for a response.

Sam leans forward and crosses his arms on the back of the bench seat. “Well, one thing to keep in mind is that a hunt could keep you away from home for longer than one week. It all depends on the hunt and you never know how difficult it may be.”

Castiel hums to himself and opens his phone again. He hesitates a moment before starting another message to Anna.

** _What makes you think I want to go hunting  
with them???_ ** _  
Sent 3:38 pm_

_Because you want to be around them all the time?_

_You might as well marry one of those boys since  
you like having them around so much. _💍💍💍

He doesn’t realize that he’s frowning again until Dean pokes him in the cheek. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” Castiel turns the screen off and gives it back to Dean again. “Anna Is just being silly.”

Instead of putting his phone away, Dean unlocks it again. He glances at it a few times, never taking his eyes off the road for too long. Castiel tries to act it’s no big deal and only watches through his peripherals. But then Dean actually _blushes_ and it’s not exactly a surprising reaction, but it is pretty interesting.

Dean coughs and puts his phone away. “Yeah, she’s – uh – just being silly.”

Castiel sighs heavily and covers his face with his hands. “Please don’t read too much into that.”

“Who’s reading into what?” Dean reaches over to turn the music up again. “Definitely not reading into anything. We’re just going to pretend none of that was there and I’ll just delete all that nothing when we get to the compound.”

He would feel better about all of that if Dean’s voice wasn’t three octaves too high. Castiel gives him a sidelong glance, unsure how he’s supposed to feel about this. “Thank you?”

Sam saves them both from talking about the topic any further by clearing his throat to get their attention. “I’ve messaged Bobby and Pam to let them know that we’re about an hour-twenty out.”

“Will they have dinner ready?” Dean pats his stomach and smacks his lips. “I’m getting hungry.”

Castiel wants to tease him about all the snacks they’ve been eating, but he decides against it. With their appetites, snacks only take the edge off of hunger. They never really _satisfy_. He envies non-mutants and how little some of them need to eat to feel full.

“Bobby made _chili_.” There’s excitement in Sam’s voice, and Castiel hasn’t ever seen him that excited about someone’s cooking before – not even _Dean’s_ and he’s one of the best cooks that Castiel has ever had the pleasure of having cooked for him.

“Fuck yes!” Dean whoops. “You haven’t had proper chili until you’ve had Bobby’s chili. You’re going to love it, Cas.”

He reaches over to pat Castiel’s leg and his hand lingers briefly. It’s long enough that Castiel can feel goosebumps spread right up his thigh and across his whole body. He holds his breath for that brief moment that Dean’s hand remains. Dean squeezes his knee once and then his hand is back on the steering wheel and it’s like it never happened.

Castiel looks out the passenger door window and counts each breath; unsure why _that_ left him more breathless than having been out on the side of the road where anyone could see him in his ill fitting trench coat and misshapen back.

* * *

Sam starts getting restless in the back-seat right around when trees fill both sides of the road. A high chain-link fence can be seen through the trees on one side, and Castiel wonders if that’s part of the compound. The Winchesters did mention that it used to be a scrap yard, but Bobby repurposed the land into a compound for his bounty hunter training school. Would there be this much greenery around a scrap yard, or did Bobby add that while he was remodeling the place?

A break in both the trees and the fence answers the question definitively as Dean turns into the short drive. It opens up into a wide dirt lot. There are a number of parked cars in front of a large building in the back of the area. A house is off to one side and there are a couple cars parked in front of that. Mounted to the porch roof over the front door of the house is a big sign reading ‘_Office_’.

Dean turns the car onto a dirt road that leads behind the house and into a new area of the compound. It’s littered with small sheds, a couple garages, and a large metal Quonset set off in the corner. Castiel knows immediately which of the garages belongs to the Winchesters. There’s only one that has anything above it.

Sure enough, Dean pushes a button clipped the visor above his head and the garage door goes up. He’s humming happily to himself as he pulls into the direct center of the garage and cuts the engine. Castiel shouldn’t be surprised by the sheer number of tools and machines lining the walls of the garage, but he is. They’re meticulously organized and practically spotless. This could only be Dean’s workshop.

Castiel is so busy trying to take in everything that he can, that he doesn’t even think twice about his anxiety. At least not until Dean gets out of the car. “Let’s bring our stuff upstairs. I’ll give you the grand tour before we walk over to Bobby’s place and get all the introductions out of the way.” He groans and rubs his belly. “I’m looking forward to that chili.”

Right. Of course. They’ve reached their destination and now Castiel is supposed to actually _meet_ people. He needs to not think about that, otherwise he’s going to work himself up into an anxious mess before they even make it out of the garage.

He takes several deep breaths to try and keep himself calm as he helps Sam get their bags out of the trunk. It’s just two duffle bags, Castiel’s luggage, and a cooler. As soon as the step out of the garage, Dean punches a code into a pad on the outside wall to close the door behind them. He leads them around the corner and up a flight of stairs. Castiel can’t help himself from glancing around to see if anybody is watching them while Dean unlocks the door.

Shamefully, Castiel does breathe a sigh of relief when they’re finally inside again. Directly inside the door is a closet, but Dean turns right and heads into the living room. He dumps his bags behind the couch sitting in the middle of the room, its back facing the front door.

There’s a loveseat at a right angle to it, with its back facing the kitchen. The TV in the corner of the room opposite the kitchen, and it isn’t nearly as big as the one Castiel has at home, but they don’t really need a big one if they’re not home very often, do they? The kitchen is a nice L shape, open to the room and making the space seem larger than it is. There’s a small table with only two chairs sitting against the far wall under the window in the kitchen.

Castiel is a little disappointed by the lack of personal items around the living area. He had imagined pictures and posters everywhere, but all they really have is a wall of floating shelves with various knick-knacks from their travels. Those could belong to anybody and there’s nothing that feels especially _Winchester_ about the place.

“Mi casa es su casa.” Dean gestures widely at the space. “If you wanna follow me, I’ll show you where you can drop your things.”

Castiel toes off his shoes in front of the closet and carries his bags through. Dean leads him around the corner, past the bathroom next to the kitchen, and into a very short hallway.

He points at a small folding door across from the bathroom. “That’s the laundry.” He gestures at another folding door at the end of the hall, which is really only as long as the doors in it are wide. “Linen closet.” Next is the closed door on the right side of the hallway, next to the bathroom. “Sam’s room.”

Dean swings open the door to the room on the left. “And last, but certainly not least, my room!”

Now _this_ feels like Dean. The room is dominated by the bed, and the only other furniture in the room are the side tables, but the walls have pictures taped in neat rows running the length of the far wall, only broken up by the one window in the room. The rest of the walls have posters in actual _frames_ to keep them safe.

Oh, he stands corrected. There’s a bookcase behind the door and it’s stuffed _full_ of books, DVDs, and boxes labeled with video games. Castiel only sees that when Dean closes the door slightly so he can put his suitcases behind it and in front of the bookcase.

The only other décor in the room is the string of Castiel’s feathers hanging about the headboard. He can’t help but blush when he sees it – and then immediately realizes that Dean isn’t wearing the other feather. “I thought you said you wear my feather when you’re not hunting?”

Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “Who says I’m not, huh?” He pulls the collar of his shirt out and lifts the necklace from beneath it.

Well, that’s embarrassing. Castiel ducks his head, his face burning all the more, and looks away. “Am I leaving my things in here for the whole visit?”

“Yeah? This is where you’re sleeping.” Dean glances down at the luggage. “Except for your work stuff. We’ll get that set up at the kitchen table. We don’t really have space for desks here.”

Castiel’s throat clicks when he swallows and he looks pointedly at the bed. “And where are _you_ sleeping, since this is _your_ room?”

Dean opens his mouth to answer and then pauses. He glances at the bed with more than enough room for two people, and then again at Castiel. “Uh.” He looks between the two again. “The couch?”

The way he says it makes it sound like that’s the obvious answer, but Castiel can’t help thinking that maybe he’s hoping to be told otherwise. And that traitorous part of him that _liked_ sharing a bed with Dean rears its ugly head at the most inopportune time.

“I’m fine sharing a bed with you, Dean.” Castiel rolls his eyes and picks up the suitcase with his clothes. He puts it on the end of the bed. “I thought that was obvious.”

“It – it was?” Dean makes a shocked noise and steps closer.

He really shouldn’t be doing this, but the difference is that now Castiel is the one who needs the comfort. At night, his wings will be on full display and having Dean fawn over them and pet them while they share a bed should hopefully help him calm down. Castiel’s desire to be comfortable and feel safe overrides his decision to _not_ lead Dean on by sharing beds with him too often.

Castiel glances up from unzipping his suitcase. “You honestly believe that I was scared of those movies?”

Dean’s jaw drops. “You _weren’t_?”

He gives Dean a flat look before shrugging out of his coat. Castiel turns away so Dean can’t see how hot his face is starting to feel. It had always been assumed that his lie had been seen through and Dean was just too polite to point out otherwise – especially since _he_ seems to want to share Castiel’s bed all the time. There were a lot of hopeful glances thrown his way after those two nights where they slept together, but Castiel had to be resolute. He couldn’t lead Dean on, no matter how much _he_ liked it too.

After his coat, Castiel takes off his shirt. He ignores the quiet, muffled sound Dean makes behind him and starts on undoing the binder. Without a word, Dean helps him get it off. As soon as they’re free, Castiel stretches his wings with a groan – ignoring the sharp breath Dean takes. The last time he had his wings bound for this long was November of last year when the Winchesters first stayed with him. It feels _so good_ to let them out right now.

“Hey, Cas?” There’s a hint of awe to his voice when Dean clears his throat. How long will it be before he _stops_ being struck dumb by Castiel’s wings? “When do you go through molt again?”

Castiel groans as he picks through his clothes for something suitable to change into. “Can we _not_ talk about that nightmare?”

“But I gotta know, Cas.” Dean sits next to the suitcase. “Then I can figure out the best way to get you to give flying a try.”

“I’m not going to _fly_, Dean.” He spares a moment to frown at him before he picks out of his altered shirts and sets it aside.

Dean continues, blissfully unaware of the frown. “It’s one of my life goals to see you fly, and to get you to stop clipping your wings.” He looks wistfully at them, and Castiel resists the urge to tuck them tighter against his back. “Poor things need better care than you’re giving them.”

Castiel crosses his arms as he straightens, and his wings curve slightly over his shoulders before he shakes them out. “You’re making it sound as though you like _them_ more than you like _me_.”

“Impossible.” Dean scoffs, brushing it off without a thought. He looks down at the shirt Castiel picked out. “You need a hand with that, or should I go?”

The glare he gets is enough of an answer and he raises both hands in innocence. “Fine, fine. We’ll be in the living room, ready to go to Bobby’s for supper whenever you’re done.” He stands up with a cheeky grin that softens any of Castiel’s annoyance, and ducks out of the room.

Once Dean is out of the room, Castiel is left to his own thoughts again. He’s been steadfastly ignoring the sense of _other_ he gets in being in a place that isn’t his own but still feels so familiar just because of how well he knows Dean. But he made it! Castiel got through the whole drive without breaking down and now he’s in _Sioux Falls_ about to meet two people who Dean and Sam themselves have referred to as _family_.

Oh God.

He’s going to meet _new people_.

Castiel stares down at his altered shirt. It took him _so long_ to show his wings to the Winchesters, and he knew them well before he actually showed them. He’s never met Bobby or Pam before and – and he’s just going to show them his wings first go? _Strangers_?

Panic starts to claw its way up his throat and Castiel swallows against it. He puts his shirt back in his suitcase and picks up his binder again. It’s been a _long_ day of new things for him and – and Castiel isn’t ready. Not for that. There’s only so much he can take in one day and maybe he can tackle showing his wings to a couple of strangers _tomorrow_.

With the bitter sting of disappointment in himself, Castiel puts his binder and un-altered t-shirt back on. He won’t be able to sit through dinner wearing his bulky trench coat, but he did have the foresight to pack one of his bigger sweaters. It hangs down to his thighs when he puts it on, but it helps obscure his wings enough that he doesn’t feel so exposed.

When he heads out to the living room, there’s a brief glimpse of disappointment on Dean’s face before he smiles encouragingly. “Ready?”

Castiel fidgets with the cuff of the sleeves. They’re too long for his arms and cover his hands. “As ready as I’ll ever be?”

Sam mirrors Dean’s smile and starts putting his shoes on. “Great. Bobby and Pam are waiting for us to start eating.”

Despite knowing that there are people waiting for him, Castiel still hesitates when it’s time to go outside again. He stays standing in the doorway, staring out at where Dean is waiting on the landing with an eyebrow raised expectantly; Sam already halfway down the stairs. Castiel takes several deep breaths, counting each of them in his head because he can do this. This is just going to be the first time he’s gone out in public, so to speak, without his coat on.

He never realized how much of a crutch his coat is for him when it comes time to go to the grocery store or to visit his parents.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t help his nerves that Bobby and Pam probably already knows that he has wings. They likely know, if not from the Winchesters then because Pam is psychic, isn’t she? And yet, Castiel is still wearing a sweater and trying to keep up the farce that he’s _normal_.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice is soft as he holds out a hand and Castiel zeros in on it.

After a moment of hesitation, Castiel reaches out to take his hand. With a light tug, Dean pulls him through the doorway and it closes behind him. He squeezes his hand reassuringly, but offers no words of encouragement. There aren’t any needed. Both Sam and Dean know this is a stressful moment for him, and the fact that they’re both waiting for him in silent support is greatly appreciated.

When did the outdoors begin to feel so very _big_?

Castiel’s legs feel all wobbly as Dean leads him down the stairs. He sticks as close to him as he can as they walk across the _massively open space_ between their apartment and the house. It’s impossible not to be aware of every minute shift of his sweater over his back, and his paranoia is through the _roof_ about people looking their way. Even though, after a good look around, the only people who would be able to see them is whoever might be looking through the windows of the house in front of them.

When they reach the small set of stairs leading up to the back door, Dean squeezes his hand again. “You’re doing great, Cas.”

Sam pats him on the shoulder, lingering long enough to give it a squeeze, before heading up the few stairs. Castiel feels like a dying man; swallowing too much air for his too small lungs. He stops breathing entirely when Sam opens the door and is instantly greeted by a happy shout.

Instead of following after him, Dean brings the both of them to a stop. He puts both hands on Castiel’s shoulders. “You made it this far and that’s _awesome_. If you don’t think you can go in there, then you don’t have to. I won’t make you. I’m already ecstatic that you made it this far.”

Castiel has such a _good_ friend. He steps forwards without warning to wrap Dean in his arms. He tucks his face against his neck and breathes deep. Dean smells like his moisturizers, leather, and engine grease, and it has an almost immediate calming effect on him.

“It’ll be okay, Cas.” Dean loops his arms around his waist and holds him tightly.

“I know.” He breathes out, and hates that he doesn’t fully believe in his own words. “I know it will.”

A laugh ruffles the hair about his ear. “You’re sounding more confident than you look.” He brings his arms up around Castiel’s shoulders. “You’re kinda shaking here, buddy.”

And there’s good reason for that. “I. Am. _Terrified_.”

Unlike when he first met Dean and Sam in the cemetery, Castiel has time to _think_ about this. Everything that took place in the graveyard took him by surprise. He didn’t have time to let his traitorous brain tell him everything that could go wrong. His anxiety took a back-seat to his need to react.

“You don’t have to do this, Cas.”

“No, I _am _going to do this.” Castiel takes a deep breath and forces himself to move back. He does it slowly, taking a moment to briefly press his cheek to Dean’s before he’s stepping out of the hug. “I can do this. Just – Could you please not go too far?”

There’s a bit of colour dusting Dean’s cheeks. He swallows and nods. “Of course.” His smile is a little shaky to start when he pats Castiel on the cheek. “But Bobby and Pam are going to love you, and you’re going to love them.”

Castiel takes a deep breath and lets Dean take his hand again. They had up the stairs slowly, and he’s well aware that Dean is giving him all the time in the world to change his mind and turn back around. It’s still a possibility, especially since Castiel feels like he’s going to pass out. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t stop taking each step one at a time. He sticks to it, because he’s going to do this for his sake. If he doesn’t push his boundaries, he’s not going to grow, and he wants to get better. He wants to _be_ better.

“Hey guys!” Dean waves his free hand as they go through the door, Castiel just a moment behind him. “It smells great, Bobby. I’ve been looking forward to this ever since Sam said that you actually picked up a pot and _cooked_.”

He’s addressing the round faced, bearded, grim looking man sitting at the kitchen table. Bobby is wearing a baseball hat at the dinner table. It’s not good manners, but Castiel bites his tongue. This isn’t his house and it has different rules, and he wants to make a _good_ impression on these people that the Winchesters call family.

Besides, focusing on something small and ridiculous like that is better for him. That way, he won’t panic about how Bobby’s eyes are shrewd under the rim of his cap, or how he’s looking at Castiel like he’s picking him apart piece by piece.

Dean’s grip tightens on his hand and he steps to the side slightly so Castiel isn’t obscured behind him. He gestures between the two of them. “Cas, this is Bobby. Bobby, Cas.”

There’s only a moment of hesitation before Castiel’s good manners kick in. He steps forward and holds out his other hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Bobby stares him down for a few moments before he snorts a laugh. He stands up to shake hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you, kid.” He jerks a thumb towards Dean. “Almost too much. It’s hard to shut this one up sometimes.”

“_Bobby_!” Dean hisses, frowning darkly at him. “I didn’t – That’s not – _You’re lying_!”

“Actually, _you’re_ the liar.” A woman in a tight black tank top, equally tight black jeans, and wavy mid-length dark hair appears almost out of nowhere. It takes Castiel a moment to realize that she stepped out from behind Sam, where she was hidden while they hugged. “It really is almost impossible to make Dean _stop_ talking about you.”

Dean flushes a bright red right to the tips of his ears. He shakes his head and waves his free hand in front of his face. “Can we change the subject, _please_?”

“No can do, cutie.” The woman – Pamela, Castiel suspects – taps Dean on the nose. “You haven’t even introduced me to Mr. Bright-Eyes here.”

Instead of following through on proper introductions, Dean goes cross-eyed to look at the end of his nose. “Uh –”

Pam ignores him and holds her hand out, which Castiel shakes automatically and then instantly regrets it as the pale blue-green of her eyes bleeds white. He flinches back in surprise, but the grip on his hand remains tight.

Dean makes an incredulous noise and slaps at her hand until she lets go. “What did I say about doing that to him? Cut it out!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Her eyes slip back to normal before she drops Castiel’s hand. “You know I get flashes that are out of my control.”

Oh God, that’s right. She’s a _psychic telepath_. Does that mean that she’s in his head? Is she listening to his thoughts? Panic is starting to build and he forces himself to breathe deeply and squash down against it, but his voice still cracks when he speaks. “Flashes of what?”

“It’s okay, Cas.” Sam joins their little group by the table and puts a hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about. Pam won’t read your mind unless you ask her to.”

“I only do that to strangers for a bit of fun, and new students to make sure we’re not taking in the wrong kind of people.” Pam laughs as she pulls Dean into a hug, clearly not put off from hugging both Winchesters just because Castiel is a nervous mess. She turns to him after, but thankfully doesn’t make any move to hug him too. “But touching new people can sometimes give me a flash of a vision. The eye thing is a side effect of my flashes.”

Bobby sits back down at the table with a sigh. “And why she’s gotta wear sunglasses whenever she goes out. Fuckin’ creepy thing to see.”

She shoots him a look that ends in laughter, but Dean talks over it. “What did you see?”

“Nuh-uh, kiddo.” Pam shakes her head and wags a finger at him. “You know I don’t flash and tell.” She glances at Castiel again and winks. “If _you_ want to know, handsome, I’ll be more than happy to tell you all about it –” She pauses to look him up and down. “In _private_.”

Castiel’s face instantly feels like it’s burning. He doesn’t know how to react to that, but Dean drops his hand and steps between them immediately. “Nope!” He takes Pam by the shoulders and steers her towards the spot at the table next to Bobby. “We’re not having any of that!”

Sam is biting his lip to keep from laughing as he takes the seat opposite Pam. He leans over the table and drops his voice into a whisper – and yet Castiel can still hear him. “Dean has _dibs_.”

“Oh, I know.” Pam leans over too, whispering just as loudly. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t tease him. He blushes _so_ nicely.”

Dean ducks his head and all but stomps across the kitchen to the bowls stacked next to the stove and the bubbling pot of chili on it. “Cas – uh – why don’t you go sit down. I’ll serve up the grub.”

Yes, he probably should do that. It’s a little awkward that he’s now standing alone in the middle of the kitchen. Castiel shifts from one foot to the other before quickly shuffling over to the chair next to Sam. There’s a rolling desk chair quite obviously dragged from another room sitting at the end of the table. He leaves that for Dean so that he has a buffer on both sides from other people.

While he sits stiffly next to Sam, Dean mutters quietly to himself and shuffles around the kitchen. It sounds like he’s berating himself for subjecting Castiel to Pam, but he could be wrong. Sam is chatting and catching up with Bobby and Pam about something to do with bounty hunting, and it’s making it hard to listen in to what Dean is saying. It doesn’t help that Dean isn’t enunciating a whole lot.

Of course it’s only _after _Dean has to go back to get the last of the bowls and bottles of beer from the fridge that Castiel realizes that he should probably help him. But the moment he moves to stand up again, Dean puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his chair. Still, Castiel watches guiltily as he gathers the last of the bears and a plate of garlic bread before finally joining them at the table too.

“Don’t you just love when he’s home?” Pam rests her elbows on the table and takes a long draught from her beer. “He’s so _helpful_.”

Dean sticks his tongue out at her before he grabs a bowl of shredded cheese. He dumps a liberal handful in both his bowl and Castiel’s, and graces him with a beatific smile. “Try the chili, Cas! The only thing Bobby does better than his chili are his burgers.”

Bobby snorts and starts spooning chili onto a slice of garlic bread. “Modesty doesn’t suit you, boy. Your burgers are better and we all know it.”

“Aw, _shucks_.” Dean tries to hide his blush behind taking a truly _massive_ bite of garlic bread. It doesn’t work, obviously.

“So, Castiel?” Pam dips a piece of bread into her chili, but she doesn’t look away from him. “What is it that you do?”

She must know, and yet she’s still asking. Castiel highly doubts that Dean or Sam didn’t talk about it at least once in all the talking they’ve apparently done about him. Still, it would be rude not to answer her, and the more he talks with Bobby and Pam, the more comfortable he should get with them. That’s how it happened with the Winchesters, after all.

“I edit anything the publishing house assigns to me.” Castiel picks up his own spoon and stirs the cheese into his chili. He likes Bobby’s wave of eating and loads up a slice of bread too. “And I transcribe recordings that doctors send me. I can do those anywhere as long as I have my equipment, so you’ll have to excuse me now and then so I can go get some work done.”

“Sounds fun.” Pam hums and taps her spoon against her bottom lip. “Just be sure to stick around after dinner long enough for me to snap your picture.”

Castiel looks up at her sharply. “M-my _picture_?” Selfies with Dean and Sam are one thing. People he hardly knows is an entirely different matter and his heart is suddenly pounding violently in his chest.

Dean’s hand finds his knee under the table and gives a reassuring squeeze. “We need a picture of you to make you that fake license I told you about. It’s just in case, y’know?”

Wait, what? Did he mention something like that? Castiel has been so wrapped up in trying to get through each moment that his memories from earlier are almost completely wiped clean. He opens and closes his mouth a few times. “License?”

“I told you that we can make a fake registry license, remember?” Dean talks with a mouthful of food, same here as he is at home. “You can flash it whenever someone demands to see it. No one has ever run my card, or Anna’s either – probably, to confirm it’s valid. Only time I’ve ever had it properly checked in the system is when I go in for my evaluation.”

Something about that sounds familiar, but Castiel’s brain is stalling out on the idea of having Pam take his picture. “But I – I’d have to –”

“Show your wings.” Pam finishes for him, officially confirming that she knows about his mutation. “Yeah, handsome, we know. Not because the boys told us though, don’t worry.” She taps at her temple with her spoon. “I saw you revealing them to Dean and Sam the first time Dean started talking about you. He projects _so much_ whether he means to or not, and it leads to a lot of visions.”

Dean sputters around his spoon. “I do _not_!”

“You kinda do.” Sam chooses then to chime in; having been mostly silent since he got his food.”

“Shut _up_, Sammy!”

Bobby rolls his eyes and gives Castiel a long-suffering look from under the rim of his ball cap. All he can do in answer is blink, because how is he supposed to react to this? How is he supposed to _handle_ this? Castiel suspected that they probably knew about his wings, but having it said so blatantly is just a little more than he can grasp at the moment. Not to mention that the grounding hand that Dean has on his knee is more comforting than he cares to admit.

“You don’t have to do it _today_, Cas.” Dean squeezes and gives him a smile.

No, no. They’re already here and it would be better to get it out of the way before he spends the entire visit dreading it. He swallows another mouthful of chili. “We can – We could do it _after_ dinner?”

“Whatever you want, Cas.”

Dean takes his hand back then and returns to eating. Castiel hates that he misses the touch. He ducks his head to keep eating himself.

It’s quiet at the table for a few moments before Sam breaks the silence. “So, what have we missed?”

“The new class will be starting in September.” Bobby shrugs, seeming more interested in his meal than actual conversation. “Some promising mutants in it, looking to use their abilities for good.”

“I like that one jokester. He’ll liven the class up a bit.” Pam bumps her elbow with Bobby’s, earning a frown. “What’s his name again?”

“Gabriel.” Bobby rolls his eyes and sighs. “I can already tell he’s going to be a handful. But he’s genuine, unlike those other dumbasses we weeded out.” At Castiel’s raised eyebrow, Bobby explains further. “The ones who think bounty hunting is all fame and fortune like those stupid TV shows. There’s always at least one in every class.”

Dean groans and sits back in his chair. “God, don’t I know it. There was that one Gordon guy in my class. He started out really good, but then he thought he could study those shows to get _better_ and all it did was make him an egotistical jackweed.”

“Yeah, I remember him. We kicked his ass out halfway through the course.”

Pam hums thoughtfully to herself for a moment before sitting up straighter. “Wait, wasn’t that the kid who tried to fight Sam?”

“He didn’t try. He _did_.” Sam grabs another slice of garlic bread. It’s his third, if Castiel has been counting correctly, and he’s very good at counting. “He actually suspected that I was unregistered and kept bugging me about it, trying to get me to show my abilities.”

Castiel isn’t the only one who stares at him after that. Dean is frozen with a spoon halfway to his mouth. He lowers it slowly. “You never told me that.”

Sam shrugs, completely unbothered as he efficiently polishes off his bowl of chili. “Because if I told you, you’d have tried to kick his ass. I took care of it.”

“Yeah, by telling _me_.” Bobby knocks his knuckles against the table, drawing Dean’s attention to him. “I dealt with it so you idjits didn’t have to.”

But that doesn’t seem to satisfy Dean’s curiosity and he turns back to Sam. “Why did he think that you were unregistered?” There’s an urgency to his voice that Castiel _completely_ understands.

“Because I’m the brother of a mutant, so obviously I should be too, right?” Sam shrugs again and reaches for a fourth slice, but Pam slaps the back of his hand with her spoon.

“Save some for the rest of us, big guy.”

Sam ducks his head with a blush and finishes the rest of his chili quietly. Dean, however, doesn’t look too happy. He picks at his meal, frowning down at it until Castiel gently nudges his foot with his own. When Dean glances at him, he raises an eyebrow and waits for an answer.

Eventually, Dean concedes. He huffs and waves his spoon at Sam. “I just can’t believe you didn’t _tell_ me about it.”

“You know how Bobby feels about in-fighting between the students.” Pam stands up, her bowl already empty, surprisingly. Bobby is done too and she takes his dishes with her to the sink as well. “He would have kicked you out of the course too, even if you were one of his _best_ students.”

Dean puffs up slightly at that, practically glowing with pride at that little bit of praise. “I am, am I?”

Bobby leans back in his chair, beer in hand. “What did I tell ya’ about puffin’ up the boy’s ego?” He speaks over his shoulder while Pam rinses the bowls. “It’s big enough _without_ our help.”

Dean deflates with a huff and takes a spiteful bite out of his garlic bread.

Sam is clearly trying not to laugh as he finishes off his chili too. “Maybe after your picture, Dean could take you out back to the obstacle course and show you how quickly he can run it.” He jostles Castiel with his elbow excitedly. “He’s pretty good.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Sammy. You’re not too shabby yourself.”

That’s almost enough to make Sam blush. But now Castiel is intrigued and it’s another thing to latch on to as a means of focusing away from his anxiety and shoving _that_ to the back of his mind.

“I think I would like to see that.” Castiel looks between Dean and Sam with what he hopes comes across as a smile, or as best as he’s able to manage right now. “I’ll even time you both.”

Mentioning a timer, which is part of the clock app on his phone, he’s reminded of something he overlooked doing. “Oh! I forgot to text Anna that we arrived.”

“Nah, I already took care of it.” Dean scrapes the bottom of his bowl clean. “I texted her when you were changing. She wants you to call her before we turn in for the night.”

“Oh.” Castiel breathes out a sigh of relief. At least she won’t yell at him for no one having let her know that they arrived safely. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Cas. We’ve got you covered.” Dean stands up with his dish and pats him on the shoulder. “You just focus on finishing up.”

Pam brings Bobby another beer, but she doesn’t take her seat again at the table. “The camera is set up in the basement.” She tilts her head towards the opening into the living room. “When you’re all done eating, I can take you down there. We’ll get your wings out, take that picture, and I’ll get started on making that license for you.”

Oh, _right_. He’d almost forgotten about that. Being reminded of it makes him freeze up. Dean must notice, because he bumps Pam’s shoulder as he heads to the sink. “Leave him alone. We don’t have to take that right away.” He dumps the dishes into the sink and starts running water into it. “And _I’ll_ be taking the picture. Not you.”

Bobby hums over the quiet laugh Pam tries to hide behind her hand. “He should have one if he’s going to be walking around the compound with his wings out. The last thing we need is some concerned neighbour calling the cops on us for a surprise inspection.”

Now, he might be trying to help, but everything Bobby just said effectively ruined Castiel’s appetite. He puts his spoon down and sits back, stomach suddenly in knots. It never even occurred to him that something like that might happen. Everything he’s been told until this point led him to believe that he wouldn’t have any trouble here – primarily because he’d be under the care of the Winchesters.

“We have literally never had anyone do that, Cas.” Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and offers him an easy smile. He probably felt that spike of anxiety. “Bobby is just a doom’s day prepper.”

“Better to be prepared than caught with our pants around our ankles.” Bobby crosses his arms with a grunt. “And what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean, huh?”

Pam’s laughter can’t be contained anymore and she gives up on the pretense of covering it up. “It means that you have a bomb shelter in the basement with a year supply of food that you inventory and keep on top of for expiry dates.” She pulls his baseball hat off and leans down to kiss the top of his head. “You’re what we like to call ‘_well prepared_’.”

Bobby snatches his hat back, grumbling to himself. There’s a hint of colour showing through his beard though, and that intrigues Castiel more than it should. He looks between Bobby and Pam. No one had mentioned that they were –

“I think I know what the look means and I’m going to stop you right there.” Sam waves a hand in front of Castiel’s face to get his attention. “They’re just business partners, and Pam is like that with everyone.”

At the mention of her name, Pam looks at them both, eyebrow raised. A moment later, she bursts out laughing and reaches down to pat Bobby on the cheek. “This grouchy old bear only _wishes_.”

He swats at her hand and leans away. “Yer not my type.”

“A fact I mourn on the daily, dear.”

Pam winks at Castiel as she takes her beer and heads out of the kitchen, stopping only to pat Dean on his ass while he putters around cleaning up after them. “I’ve got a ready to do for Rufus, so I’ll be in my room consulting the cards if you need me. Let me know when you’ve done your little photo shoot and I’ll whip up the license before you head back over to your place.”

Castiel watches her leave, then glances at Dean as he comes to collect the last of the dishes on the table. “This was… short?”

The Winchesters have been gone for a while, haven’t they? He had expected that they would catch up and visit with Bobby and Pam for hours. They haven’t even been here for a whole half hour yet.

“They know you’re an adorable ball of nerves.” Dean ruffles his hair a bit. “They don’t want to overwhelm you. Do you, Bobby?”

In response, Bobby rolls his eyes. “I don’t care enough.” He stands up and rolls his shoulders. “Your guests are my guest and all the BS. That’s the end of that.”

“He’s lying.” Sam whispers loudly again as he leans in. “He’s _dying_ to know more about you because he’s worried about _us_.”

Bobby shoots Sam a frown on his way out of the room. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Thanks, Bobby!” Dean waves after him, then turns to Castiel with a wide grin and a wink. “Let’s leave the clean up to Sam and we’ll go get that picture out of the way. I promise I’ll only take one and _not_ turn it into a fun little photo shoot”

Sam stands up and stretches. “You two go have fun, but be careful, Cas. Dean can be weirdly persuasive and he might try and talk you into a boudoir shoot.”

“_Boudoir_?” Castiel looks sharply between Dean and Sam. “Why would –? _What_?” He was anxious before, and now he’s just confused. Why would Sam even mention something like that

“Oh my _God_, Sam.” Dean reaches out to smack at him, but Sam nimbly dances out of reach. “I am _never_ telling you anything _ever again_.” He throws his hands in the air and turns to stomp out of the room. “I do _one_ shoot with an ex and I never hear the frikken end of it!”

Castiel stares after him, mouth open but unable to find any words. He expected to learn new things about the Winchesters while he was here, but _boudoir_ shots? That’s – well, it’s certainly unexpected. It just makes him question about whether or not Dean was the photographer or the subject of those shots and – Oh, that’s certainly a distracting thought.

He jumps when Sam pats him on the shoulder. “You should probably follow him. Ask nicely and he might even tell you all about it.”

“I –” But he has no idea how to continue. “I –”

“_Cas_! You coming or what?”

Dean’s shout has him jumping again, right to his feet and out of his chair. “Coming!”

Castiel really wasn’t sure how this trip was going to go, but his nerves have taken a backburner to his curiosity. He’s been looking forward to learning new things about the Winchesters for a while now. It feels like they know everything about him, and he doesn’t know much about them. But this is a place where they spent their childhoods and he’s looking forward to learning more about them.

And the first stop; Dean and these supposed _boudoir shots_.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Monday – August 20th, 2018_ **

Bobby is sitting at a desk in front of the fireplace when Castiel shuffles into the living room. He points towards the other entrance to the room without even glancing up from the papers scattered in front of him. “Basement door is to the left.”

It’s weirdly easier to converse with Bobby when he’s _not _looking at him. Castiel’s voice doesn’t even crack when he thanks him. That said, he still doesn’t hang around to spend more time than is necessary in this room. He quickly ducks around the corner into what appears to be the foyer of the house. A staircase is against the opposite wall, leading upstairs with a closet beneath it. The door to the left, opposite the front door, is hanging open.

The bottom of the basement stairs lets out into a large main room that has a few doors coming off of it. Most of the room is fairly bare. There are cluttered shelves against one wall, and a table against another with more shelves above it, but that’s really it – aside from the part of the room is set up like a little photo studio. Dean is standing in front of a white backdrop in that little corner, frowning down at the camera in his hands.

He looks up suddenly and breaks into a wide smile. “Oh good. You came!”

“Should I not have?” Castiel glances back up the stairs, wondering if he still has a chance to flee or if Sam will be waiting to stop him.

“I half thought you would’ve run back to the apartment by now.” Dean shrugs and puts the camera down on the stool in front of the backdrop. He approaches Castiel slowly, as if he expects to spook him. “But I’m really proud of you for sticking it out this long. I know Pam can be _a lot_.”

Once he’s close enough, Dean catches his hand. Castiel allows it; even gripping back tightly. “If I could survive the first time I met you, then I think I can survive _anyone_.” His nose wrinkles with his grin at the shocked look that earns him, but it’s short lived as Dean bursts out laughing moments later.

“I guess so, huh?” He chuckles the whole way across the room, pulling Castiel along with him. “Let’s get this part over with. I know you’re probably itching to get back to the apartment, huh?”

Castiel hums thoughtfully, taking a moment to examine how he’s feeling right now. “Actually, I think I’m okay.” He’s just as surprised by that as Dean’s raised eyebrows indicate he is. “I wanted to run earlier, but I’m doing better now. The banter between all of you is surprisingly calming.”

Dean turns to face him, smiling brightly. “Yeah?”

“Yes. It’s mostly dealing with new people that freaks me out.” He glances around the room again, wondering which of the doors leads to Bobby’s supposed bomb shelter. “Give me a day or two and I should hopefully be used to Pam and Bobby. Maybe not to the extent I am with _you_, but you and Sam are special cases.”

When he turns back to Dean, it’s to find a soft, almost sweet smile directed his way. It’s the kind of smile that makes his chest feel tight, even more so than the binder does. He has to look away again, or he’ll end up staring.

Castiel likes making Dean happy more than he probably should.

“So – um – a picture?” He clears his throat and drops Dean’s hand to grab the hem of his sweater and start pulling it up.

Dean makes a choked noise, but he’s pointedly looking away when Castiel glances back up at him. He hesitates a moment before pulling off both his sweater and t-shirt in the same motion. His fingers fumble on the clasps of his binder and it takes a little longer to take it off. As soon as he shrugs it off, he stretches his wings again with a quiet groan.

It’s just a quiet noise muffled in the back of his throat, but it has Dean whipping around to look at him again. His gaze is like a physical touch; skittering across Castiel’s bare chest and over his wings. Dean looks away again just as quickly, teeth caught in his bottom lip as he takes a deep breath. Castiel isn’t sure _how_, but he suddenly feels even more exposed than he did crossing the yard between their apartment and the house.

“Okay!” Dean clears his throat loudly and snatches up the camera. “Picture time!” He steps out of the way and gestures at the stool, words coming too fast. “Just sit here and I’ll take a quick pic, then we’re all done and you can put your clothes on again.”

Castiel does as he’s told and sits carefully on the edge of the stool. “No boudoir shots? I’m disappointed.” He folds his hands in his lap and tries not to look like he wishes he was anywhere else but here. Talking will help distract him from thinking about how this is going to be a picture taken.

Dean nearly drops the camera as he steps back to a tripod. “Aw _fuck_.” He sighs and droops considerably before clipping the camera into place. “Am I really going to have to talk about that?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Castiel shrugs and straightens his back. “You’re entitled to your secrets; however juicy they may be.”

“Please never say the word ‘_juicy_’ again.” He snorts a laugh and steps behind the camera. “Okay, lean a little to the left.” Castiel shifts his weight slightly and Dean gives him a thumbs up. “That’s perfect. Now, don’t lower your wings like you always do. Let them arch up like they should normally and – Yeah, just like that!”

It requires more concentration than it should for Castiel to force himself to relax enough for his wings to fold normally against his back. Usually he has them dropped low enough that the arches can curve around his shoulder to help minimize their presence. It’s automatic in the presence of other people, but he does hold them fairly normally when he’s on his own.

Though, he has noticed that it’s becoming more and more normal for him to relax completely in front of the Winchesters. That’s how much of a constant they’ve become in his life.

Once his wings are arched as they should be, Dean nods and gives another thumbs up. “Great. Now you need to look a little sad, because no mutant is ever happy to be registered… Excellent. You’re a natural at this, Cas.”

Dean checks the screen on the back of the camera, changes a few settings, and then there’s a bright flash that leaves spots dancing in Castiel’s eyes.

He takes a couple pictures before popping the memory card out of the camera. “There we go. I’m sure Pam can use one of those. I promise we’ll delete them as soon as the card is made.”

“Thank you.” Castiel goes to where he dropped his clothes and picks up his binder. He holds it out. “Will you help me with this, please?”

“Yeah, of course.” Dean reaches for it, but Castiel quickly pulls it out of his reach. The smile on his lips falls into a frown. “What?”

Castiel sways the binder from the end of one finger. “You can help me on _one_ condition.”

A beat or two of silence passes between them before Dean groans. “Ugh, _fine_.” He snatches the binder and steps behind Castiel to help him put his arms through. “I was nineteen and dating a girl named Rhonda Hurley. She thought I was all kind of badass because I was a bounty hunter, and she showed her appreciation for that by being kinda kinky in the bedroom.”

_Oh_.

Why in the world hadn’t Castiel realized that this topic would involve talking about Dean’s _history_? He can feel his ears starting to heat up and there’s a weird, somewhat tight feeling building behind his belly button. It’s starting to make him feel a little queasy and that – That’s not something he wants to think about too hard.

Dean keeps talking while he adjusts the binder over his wing. “She _really_ had a thing for – uh – well, for dudes in girl’s underwear.”

Castiel’s wings jolt at the confession and Dean is suddenly stepping in front of him, brow furrowed with worry. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“N-no, it’s fine.” Except that his voice cracks like he’s going through puberty again.

Did Dean just confess to having worn women’s underwear? Whether Castiel wants it to or not, a mental image starts forming; Dean in a matching set of panties and bra, his scars on full display. Well, actually, he probably wouldn’t have had most of his scars that early on in his career. But still! Now that the idea has been planted in his head, Castiel can’t make himself _stop_ thinking about it.

His brain has essentially short circuited and he misses most of what Dean says next. He only tunes back in when Dean starts doing up the binder clasps for him. “– so, it wasn’t a professional shoot or anything, and I only wore that one pair of her panties. But the moral of the story is to _never tell Sammy anything_ since he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut about it after I told him about it.”

Castiel opens his mouth to answer, to say _anything_, but all that comes out is a kind of _hng _noise. Dean glances up at him, one eyebrow cocked in confusion. “Y’okay there, Cas?”

He jerks his head in a nod. “Just fine.”

But if he’s fine, then how come it feels like his throat has gone too tight? And why does his face feel so hot? And why won’t that mental image _leave his brain_? And Castiel can’t help but wonder if this Rhonda girl still has the pictures, or –

Or what? Why would that matter? _None_ of it matters in the slightest. He’s just surprised, is all. Anyone would react like this. It’s totally normal.

Right?

Dean holds his shirt out to him and Castiel shakes himself out before taking it. He doesn’t realize that his t-shirt is on backwards until he’s pulling the sweater down a blank front where there had been a cat in sunglasses earlier.

He should probably correct it, especially since Dean is giggling at him, but instead he turns on his heel and starts for the stairs again. “I should go see if Sam needs help cleaning up.”

“Cas?” Dean calls after him, the laughter in his voice coming to a quick end.

But Castiel is already all but running up the stairs, heart pounding in his ears because _what the hell_ is going on with him?

Bobby is on the phone when he enters the living room again. He spares at nod for Castiel, but seems more focused on his call to care about anything else. Castiel manages a jerky nod back before he effectively flees into the kitchen where Sam is putting a couple containers of chili in the fridge. Everything else is already clean, and Castiel is almost a little disappointed. Now he doesn’t have an excuse to keep himself busy and not having to think too hard about why he’s _reacting_ this way.

Sam turns to him with a smile. “Hey, Cas. I’ve got us a couple containers of leftovers for a snack later.” He pauses and his smile falls into a look of concern. “You okay?”

“Just fine.” The more he repeats it, the truer it has to be. “I guess you don’t need a hand with anything?”

“No, I’m all done.” Sam picks up a big container of chili from the counter. “I was actually about to check to see if you guys wanted to go back or –”

Castiel starts towards the door without a second thought. “Going back is fine.” Because everything is _fine_, and he nods as if convincing Sam will convince himself too. “I’m feeling tired after that long drive.” Even though it’s not even quite seven o’clock in the evening at this point. “Let’s go.”

Sam hesitates and glances toward the living room. “Aren’t we going to wait for Dean?”

That _mental image_ flickers to the forefront of his mind at the mention of Dean’s name. Castiel swallows around the lump in his throat and throws open the back door. “He knows the way.”

Even in his rush to run from his own thoughts, he locks up only two steps down into the yard. The wide-open sky and smattering of buildings back here feel so much _bigger_. He’s outside, on his own, in a stranger area and the panic strikes him out of nowhere. It’s so sudden that it makes him dizzy and he sways in place.

A hand is on his shoulder a moment later. “Alright, Cas. Let’s go.” Sam gives him the tiniest of shoves, and that gets his feet moving again.

Castiel forces himself to take deep breaths, focusing more on his breathing than anything else. He leaves it to Sam to guide him back to the apartment and to catch him if he trips. But they make it back without further any issues and he relaxes almost the moment that they’re inside again.

Sam goes straight to the kitchen to put the chili away. When Castiel hasn’t moved from his place by the door, he picks up his duffle bag and pats it. “Well, I’m going to put my stuff away. Do you have anything you want to do? Maybe take a bath or something?”

Actually, a bath sounds _delightful_. Baths are calming and cleansing and Castiel has no idea why he still feels like he’s having an anxiety attack even though he’s safe inside where there are no prying eyes. The only person here is someone he trusts.

Five minutes ago he wasn’t even _half_ as anxious about being so far away from home as he is right now, and that isn’t even playing into it! This trip had been going _so good_ up until now. How did talking about Dean modeling panties for an ex nearly ten years ago somehow derail all of that?

He has no idea what expression he’s wearing right now, but Sam’s concern only seems to increase and he takes a few steps forward. “Maybe you should sit down?”

Castiel shakes himself out again and kicks off his shoes. “I’d rather take a bath.”

Without another word, he strides across the apartment and right into the bathroom. He shuts the door and braces himself against the vanity, his head hanging between his shoulders while he tries to slow his breathing. This is a fairly mild anxiety attack compared to some of the ones he’s had in the past, but it’s cause is still just – Castiel closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing; counting his way through this.

A knock at the door gives him a bit of a fright. He jumps at Sam’s voice coming through the door. “Cas? I brought you some towels.”

Oh. Yes, he’ll probably need those for a bath.

“Thank you.” Castiel opens the door to take them. When he’s met with the concern on Sam’s face again, he tries smiling again. “I’m okay. I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed.”

That seems to ease Sam’s worries somewhat. He relaxes a little and offers an encouraging smile of his own. “Hopefully a relaxing bath will help with that.” He glances over his shoulder before leaning in conspiratorially and dropping his voice into a whisper. “Dean has some bubble bath and candles hidden in a box under the sink. Just in case you want to get the _full_ relaxation experience.”

Castiel bites his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing at the idea of Dean trying to hide stuff like that. “Thank you, Sam.”

It’s then that he hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside. He isn’t quite ready to face Dean just yet, so he backs into the bathroom further. “I think Dean’s back. I’m going to just – I’ll just get started on taking my bath now.”

Even though it’s a bit rude, Castiel shuts the door while Sam is looking over his shoulder.

A moment later, Dean calls out into the apartment for them. Sam answers, of course, and a murmured conversation starts up in the other room. Castiel could probably eavesdrop quite easily if he wanted to, but he can already hear the concern in Dean’s voice and that’s too much for him. He can’t deal with him right now.

Just in case Dean is feeling confrontational, Castiel locks the bathroom door. He doesn’t _really_ think that either of the Winchesters would try and walk in on him, but he doesn’t want to take the chance.

After his bath, it might just be best for him to turn in early. Then he can avoid talking to Dean before they – Oh God. He forgot that they’re going to be sharing a bed for the night. And as soon as he remembers that, Castiel can feel his anxiety start to spike again.

No, no, _no_. He drops the towels on the counter and crouches to dig the box out from the cupboard. It’s a small one shoved in the back behind spare rolls of toilet paper. Inside the box is a bottle of bubble bath, and a selection of candles in various states of use. The bottle itself is labeled _Calming Bubbles_, and the candles – at first sniff – seem to be citrus and lavender scented. Those are scents known to help with calming anxiety and Castiel frowns down at them.

Castiel never realized that Dean might need something like this. Dean is always so confident and bullheaded. He never seemed like someone who gets anxious. But apparently everyone, even people like Dean, need some help relaxing.

There’s a box of matches and little dishes for the candles in the bottom of the box and Castiel sets them out on the counter and the back of the toilet, lighting them as he goes. He doesn’t want them anywhere near his wings when he’s in the tub. He’s made it this far in life without singing feathers, and he’s not about to start now.

It takes a little bit of fumbling with the taps to find the perfect temperature and then adds a squirt of bubble bath liquid. While the tub fills, he sits on the edge of the tub and tries to find a relaxation playlist he can stream on his phone. He really should just transfer the one on his computer to his phone, but he always just keeps putting it off because he’s never been somewhere where he didn’t have his computer when he needed it.

Oh, he should probably get the Wi-Fi password before he runs his data up too high. Castiel hesitates for a moment on how to go about doing that before he settles on just texting Sam. He only has to wait a few moments before Sam responds with the password and which network to use. It’s a string of numbers and letters and Castiel has to copy/paste it rather than try and remember it himself.

After getting the music going, Castiel strips and turns off the light. He sinks into the water and turns the taps off, settling on his belly facing away from the faucet. This is easier to do in the tub at his house because the back of the tub is inclined and there’s a wide ledge between the end of the tub and the wall. In that tub, Castiel can cross his arms on the ledge and rest his chest on the incline. It keeps his wings out of the water.

But here he has none of that and his face is practically squished into the tiled wall. It’s better than nothing though, and Castiel rests his forehead against it, breathing deep. He props one wing against the wall and the other he drapes over the edge of the tub. The candles and the bubbles smell really nice and it’s definitely helping to calm him down. Even the tinkling sound of the music is doing a good job, though it’s better suited for a meditation studio than a bathroom.

This isn’t home, but the soft atmosphere he’s managed to create in here is doing the trick. It’s almost too easy to push all thoughts out of his mind and just focus on calming down. Though he has the feeling that he’s not going to be able to ignore thinking about this for very long.

It’s nearly an hour later, long after the water went cold, by the time Castiel finally drags himself out of the bathroom. He didn’t bring a change of clothes in with him, or even ask for Sam to bring him one, so he’s reduced to wearing a towel for the time being. Neither Winchester is paying attention to him, so it must be okay. They’re both sprawled across the couch and the loveseat while watching what appears to be a rerun of _Seinfeld_.

Castiel ducks through the short hall and into Dean’s bedroom. His suitcase is still on the bed and he shuts the door so he can change into his pajama bottoms. He makes sure his suitcases are out of the way again before he goes back out to the living room.

The show is in the middle of a commercial at the moment and Castiel clears his throat. “I – I’m going to go to bed now.”

Dean suddenly pops up over the back of the couch, eyebrows pulled together. “So soon?”

“It’s been a long, eventful day and I’m tired.” He shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Please don’t feel obligated to go to bed early too. I won’t mind if you don’t come to bed until later.”

That just makes Dean’s frown crease even deeper and he sits up more. “Is everything okay, Cas?”

“Better now than I was earlier.” Castiel forces himself to look Dean in the eye. It’s not _his_ fault that he’s a mess of nerves and doesn’t want to examine _why_ that set him off earlier. “The bath helped.”

“Okay…” Dean’s concern doesn’t lessen any, and neither does Sam’s as he watches over the armrest. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

Castiel hesitates slightly, if only because he _does_ feel bad about just ditching them like this on the first night that he’s staying in their home. But he just – he feels awkward in the same room with Dean right now. And he _is_ really tired. This is just for the best and he can apologize for all this nonsense tomorrow morning or something.

“I know.” He tries to give him a comforting smile. “Goodnight, Dean. Sam.”

Sam raises a hand and gives a little wave, but Dean just continues looking after him. Castiel ducks out of the room before he can change his mind. He closes the door behind himself and falls face first into the bed as soon as he’s close enough. The blanket he already threw back earlier and he blindly reaches out to drag it over his hips.

His first deep breath makes him regret his choice of going to bed. Everything smells like Dean and it’s almost too overwhelming. The oddly vanilla-like tang of his shampoo and body-wash, mixed with that auto-leather scent permeated into him by the Impala – it’s just _wafting_ out of the pillow and blankets and Castiel feels like he could get drunk from it.

After a few long minutes where his anxiety doesn’t come roaring back, he relaxes further into the pillows and breathes deep. It’s really not bad _at all_. After he got used to the Winchesters, Dean became a source of peace for him. Castiel taps into that now, focusing on his _good_ memories instead of whatever the hell happened earlier this evening.

* * *

** _Tuesday – August 21st, 2018_ **

Castiel doesn’t remember falling asleep, and he definitely doesn’t remember when Dean came to bed. But when he wakes up, he’s not alone. Dean is lying next to him, propped up on his elbow and grinning far too brightly for any time in the morning. He also happens to be covered by one of Castiel’s wings, and he doesn’t remember doing that.

“What?” It’s half muffled by the pillow, but the confusion must get across.

“Go-o-o-o-o-od morning’ sunshine!” Dean’s cheerful sing-song is both adorable and grating.

He groans and turns his face into the pillow to protect himself from that shining glee. “You’ve already been up, haven’t you?” Apparently for a while, if Dean is _this_ awake.

“Yup!” Dean hums and his fingers start sifting through feathers in the way that feels good but causes _so_ many goosebumps. “I even made breakfast and everything.”

“And how many coffees have you had?” Castiel has no idea the size of the coffee mugs the Winchesters have, but he imagines that they must be huge, given how caffeine-dependant Dean is in the mornings.

Dean digs his fingers into the curve of his wing, scratching at that spot and drawing another groan out of him. “Three, and my fourth is getting cold on the counter right now. I came back to wake you up while it was brewing, but you looked _so comfy_ that I just had to join you.” There’s a clear smile in his voice and Castiel almost hates it even if he can’t see it. “And as soon as I got back in bed, you put your wing over me. That’s pretty cute, Cas.”

Oh _God_. Castiel groans and pushes his face harder into the pillow. Maybe if he keeps doing that, he can suffocate himself and avoid this whole day.

“C’mon, cutie.” Dean muffles a laugh as he slips out from under his wing; getting out of the bed. “It’s time to get up and get some food in you. Coffee too. Promise.”

Castiel huffs and rolls onto his side, facing away from Dean. He pulls his wings tight against his back. Maybe if he doesn’t do anything, then Dean will just go away. But of course that’s not the case. Dean simply turns on the bedroom light, and even through closed eyes it hurts.

Hissing, he pulls the blanket over his face. “Not _fair_.”

Dean just laughs at him again and tugs at one of his feet. “Come on, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Up and at ‘em!”

There’s no escaping this. It’s stubborn versus the caffeine-fueled bullheadedness of a Winchester and Castiel knows he’s going to lose if he fights against it. He’s got several mornings worth of proof where Dean badgered him out of bed back in his own home.

Groaning and grumbling, Castiel pushes himself up. That’s apparently enough to satisfy Dean, as he ducks out of the room with a jaunty whistle. Castiel mutters quietly to himself as he shuffles out into the hallway. He hasn’t seen a clock yet, so he has _no idea_ what time it is. But it feels early. If it’s before ten o’clock, he’s going to have some _serious_ words with Dean again.

Sam is just coming out of the bathroom in sweatpants and towel drying his hair. He gives Castiel a bright smile. “Hey! Are you feeling better this morning?”

Castiel barely has his eyes open. He grunts and stumbles past him into the bathroom. He’ll be doing much better once he gets his hands on a coffee.

Thankfully, Dean is waiting for him outside the bathroom with one in hand once he’s all finished his business. “Here you go.” Dean hands it over and directs him toward the small table in the kitchen. “And breakfast is on the table.”

He gets seated at one of the two chairs and sips through his entire coffee until he feels awake enough to be able to manage a fork. Dean has apparently already eaten, because he only sets out two plates on the table before disappearing into the bathroom for his turn at the shower. Sam, fully dressed, ends up taking the other chair.

“So, do you want to see us run the obstacle course this morning?” Sam tucks into his stack of pancakes without further ado. “It could be fun, you know. I haven’t done it in a while, but I’d like to see if our run-times have suffered at all.”

Castiel shrugs and polishes off the last of his coffee. “That would be interesting.”

“Dean said he also wants to take you to the gun range and have you try using a gun for the first time.”

That actually _does_ sound pretty interesting. It’s not something Castiel has ever thought about before, but he wouldn’t mind trying it. “Okay.”

Sam pauses with a strawberry between his teeth. He bites into it and chews slowly before leaning forward. “Are you feeling better than last night?”

Castiel nods and starts picking at his pancakes, not exactly hungry yet. Dean drew a smiley face on his pancake stack with whipped cream and fruit. It’s adorable and causes a curious ache in his chest before he cuts into them. “I’m doing much better, thank you.” As long as he doesn’t spend too much time thinking about certain things.

Later, when Dean comes out of the bathroom in just a towel, Castiel becomes very interested in the view out the kitchen window.

“Oh, by the way.” Sam gets something from off the kitchen counter when he dumps his dishes in the sink. He brings it over to hand to Castiel. “Pam dropped this off yesterday. There’s Dean’s license with it so you can compare how it looks to the real deal.”

It’s his fake license and Castiel squints down at it. He scrutinizes the two, but isn’t able to find any difference between them – aside from the obvious of his information versus Dean’s information. It looks every inch the same, right down to the holographic _Registry_ logo underneath the information.

Even though it looks so very real, Castiel still isn’t sure how he feels about having it. He looks appropriately unhappy in the picture, even though that was _before_ he learned about the boudoir shots and – And he’s not going to think about that anymore. He’d rather not somehow think himself right into another anxiety attack.

“Pam does good work.” He stands, leaving Dean’s license there on the table as he takes his plates to the sink too. His fake license he puts in his pocket. “Does she charge for this? I feel like I should pay for it.”

“No, it’s a free perk she offers for the unregistered that she helps.” Sam smiles and starts running water over the dishes. 

Castiel hums to himself and looks at his license again. “Remind me to thank her when we see her next.”

With that, he heads back to the bedroom to change out of his pajamas. He knocks first to make sure that he doesn’t walk in on Dean in a state of undress, because he’s fairly sure that his heart wouldn’t be able to take it if he did.

“Oh, hey!” Dean opens the door, thankfully fully dressed. “I’ve just got the bed to make and then I’ll be outta your hair.”

Rather than stand by and wait, Castiel goes to his side of the bed and starts fixing the pillows. Dean snorts, but says nothing. He goes around the bed to the other side and, together, they flip the blanket and sheets back into place.

“I left your license on the table.”

“Great, thanks.” Dean tucks in the edges of the bedding and Castiel copies him. “When you’re ready, we’re going to head out, okay?”

He hums in agreement and shuts the door after Dean leaves so he can change in private. It takes him several minutes to convince himself to actually work up the nerve to put on one of his altered t-shirts. It’s been a really long time since he felt so _aware_ of his wings. Even showing his wings to the Winchesters for the first time didn’t feel like this.

Castiel jerks in surprise when his phone vibrates on the side table where he left it to charge overnight. He stumbles slightly on his way to pick it up, only to find that it’s Anna calling him. For a moment, he entertains the idea of not answering just to torture them, but he knows that they’re only concerned about him and he can’t bring himself to actually _worry_ them.

With a sigh, he sits on the edge of the bed and answers the call. “Good morning, Anna. How are you?”

“_I’m here too, kiddo._”

“Good morning, Auntie.”

“_We’re fine._” Anna almost sounds a little impatient. “_And what about **you**? Everything okay? You went to bed pretty early last night._”

He winces and glances towards the door. Of course one of the Winchesters would have said something about it. Which one was it? Probably Dean. He seems to talk with Anna the most, especially where Castiel is concerned.

“Sam knows, and I don’t want to upset Dean, so don’t tell him – but I had a bit of an anxiety attack last night.” Castiel fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt. “I got overwhelmed and calmed down with a bath. I was tired after, so I went to bed early. That’s it.”

There’s silence following his answer before Aunt Amara must take the phone. “_I’m really proud of you, Cas. You dealt with that and you’re still sticking around. You’re making some real progress._”

Even sitting alone in the bedroom, he still blushes at the praise. “Thanks, Auntie. It’s weird being so far from home, but I’m doing okay.”

“_For now_.” Anna, ever the voice of reason, points out. “_But just keep dealing with things the way you did last night and I think you might even be able to last the whole week._”

Castiel frowns and his wings rustle against his back. “I fully plan to stay the whole week, attacks or not.”

Anna hums as if she doubts him. “_Of course you will_.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from chewing her out because he _knows_ that she’s just trying to egg him on. Anna loves working him up and teasing him. She’s fully stepped into the _little sibling_ role despite being his cousin.

“They’re waiting to show me some parts of the school’s compound today. I should probably go.” Castiel stands up. As much as he would love to continue talking with them, he’d also like to get the day started before he starts over thinking walking around with his wings on full display. “I’ll talk to you both later, and I promise to send updates throughout the day.”

“_Thank you, sweetheart._” Aunt Amara has a smile in her voice and Castiel is briefly struck with a bout of homesickness at not being able to see it. “_Have fun with your friends_.”

“_Love you, Cas_!” Anna adds.

“I love you both too. Have a good day.” Castiel hesitates just slightly before hanging up. That nostalgic sense of missing home increases slightly before he tucks his phone away in his pocket.

With one last pat down to make sure he has everything, Castiel heads out.

“Did you bring your license?” Dean calls from the living room and Castiel curses, because he did not.

He turns around to get it from where he’d left it on the bedspread. It’s probably something he should put in his wallet, right? But his wallet is currently in his coat pocket in the front closet and he doesn’t want to wear that around the compound today. Instead, he slips the license into the back pocket of his jeans and does his best to forget all about it and how he’s faking being registered with both it and the temporary tattoo on his stomach.

His heart is in his throat when he walks into the living room with his wings out. Both Winchesters are stretching; Sam has a leg up on the back of the couch and he’s bending over it, holding onto his foot with his forehead touching his knee. He’s changed out of his sweatpants into a tank-top and shorts, while Dean is wearing sweatpants that are practically molded to his legs as he does lunches in place by the door. Has he always had such muscular thighs? And his _arms_! He’s wearing a tight long sleeved shirt that leaves only his scars to the imagination.

To his horror, Castiel finds himself staring. “What –?”

“We’re running the course, right?” Sam switches legs and touches his head to his knee again. “We need to be limber for that.”

Dean grins, standing up and then sinking into another lunge. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Sammy.”

“Yeah, right.” He snorts and twists at the waist, first one way and then the other. “You might have the speed, Dean, but I’ve got the stamina. You’re going to tire out in seconds.”

“You fucking _wish_.” Dean arches his arms over his head and leans side to side. “Let’s go.”

Castiel opens his mouth only to close it again. He swallows thickly and forces himself to look away from the lines of Dean’s back through his shirt. All he can do is nod and shuffle after them as they bicker their way through putting on their shoes and heading out the door.

He’s so distracted by their banter and Dean not being hidden under multiple layers of clothing that he doesn’t even register that he’s outside with his wings out until they’re at the bottom of the stairs. This isn’t his enclosed backyard where no one could possibly see him without his knowledge. This is a strange place full of strange people and – And the realization roots him to the spot as his heart starts pounding in his ears.

Without losing a step, Dean reaches back to grip his hand tightly. He pulls him along and Castiel allows himself to be dragged along. Even though he has the strength to stop them in place if he wanted to, he really doesn’t and stumbles over his own feet to follow after him. His wings curve in tightly over his shoulders. As much as he wishes he could hold his head high, Castiel keeps his eyes on the ground so he won’t notice if anyone is watching them.

Sam takes his other hand and squeezes it just as tightly, making Castiel feel marginally better. They both support him wordlessly, not even breaking stride in their banter as they start making ridiculously bets involving how they’re going to run the obstacle course.

They cut across a field of grass circled by a running track sitting behind the largest building of everything on the compound that Castiel has seen so far. Sitting smack in the middle of the running track is the obstacle course and Castiel stops them where he can see it in its entirety.

“Is that –? It looks like –”

“A mix of _Wipe-Out_ and _American Ninja Warrior_?” Dean interrupts with a laugh. “Yeah, Bobby took some liberal inspiration from both. When he first started the school, this looked like a Marine training course. But then he said he wanted to make it harder. Hilarious, right?”

Sam leans in conspiratorially. “Pam told me he did it for his own amusement.”

Dean nods in agreement. “And because he wants his students to be able to follow and catch _anyone_.”

Castiel looks the course over and glances back towards the office, though it’s hidden from view at this angle by the large building. “He’s insane.”

Both Winchesters share a look before breaking down laughing. Dean gives him a shove towards a single set of bleachers. “You can sit here and time us. This is where instructors and other students usually watch whatever poor sap is chosen to run the course.”

It’s apparently too early in the morning for anyone else to be out and about, because there’s not a soul within sight as Castiel looks around nervously. He was right about Dean waking him up absurdly early. At this point, it’s not even half past nine o’clock yet and there’s still a morning mist clinging to the trees around the compound.

Once Castiel is settled, Sam at his side, Dean gives them both a double thumbs up and starts a quick jog over to the what must be the starting side. Sam’s knee is bouncing with barely contained energy next to him, fingers drumming on his thighs. He waits until Castiel has pulled out his phone and opened the timer app before cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Okay! Go!”

At that, he takes off and Castiel taps the start button on his phone. He doesn’t, however, take his eyes of Dean; watching, rapt, as Dean quickly makes his way down a narrow beam to a bar above his head. For a brief moment, Dean hangs from it, and then he rocks his whole body to bring the bar off its slot and into the one above it.

“That’s called a _salmon ladder_.”

“What happens if he falls?” Castiel can’t imagine that this is easy. The strength and coordination needed for it is something he doubts he would be able to puff off himself.

Sam shrugs, continuing to practically vibrate in place. “Then he has to start at the beginning of whatever obstacle he’s currently on.” He leans over to glance at the timer. “His best time for completing the whole course is one minute, forty seconds. Most students take almost three minutes or longer – unless they’re a mutant and have some leg up over the others. But the last time we ran the course was a few years ago, so we’re both probably a bit out of practice.”

Castiel doesn’t dare glance down at the timer, but his thumb does remain hovering over the stop button. As Dean finishes the salmon ladder, he swings and drops down onto a wobbly platform. He bites his lip and watches as Dean almost effortlessly jumps between angled pads until he reaches a low platform that curves up into a high wall.

That doesn’t even seem to slow him down. Dean sprints up it with no problem, grabs the edge, and hauls himself up onto it. From there, he holds onto a zip-line bar that jerkily zips him down to the next level comprised of a field of narrow bars that he has to run across. Some of them wobble, apparently only supported in the middle, and Castiel holds his breath when Dean nearly loses his balance on some of them.

He sits up a little more to see the floor of the course. “is there anything under him if he falls?”

“Sand.”

“That can’t be fun to fall on.” Castiel winces. “Don’t they use water on the TV shows?”

Sam grimaces and nods in agreement. “It’s not fun at all, but it’s better than dirt and Bobby doesn’t want to spend time or money maintaining an outdoor water feature.”

Dean makes it across the balance bars to scale yet another wall, though this one is made of netting. He closely resembles a monkey as he scrambles up it and vaults over the top. There’s another slope on the other sad and he skids down that without losing his footing. He’s up and running again almost immediately; sprinting through the finish line.

Castiel taps the stop button and looks down. “Two minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

“That’s not bad.” Sam whistles as he stands up, rolling his shoulders. “My turn.”

There’s sweat rolling down Dean’s face and he’s panting heavily as he comes up the bleachers. He drops into the spot next to Castiel with a loud huff. “Well?” He leans over to look at the timer and groans. “Aw man! That’s not nearly as good as I thought I’d be able to do.”

“It’s still pretty good, though.” Sam calls over his shoulder as he hops down the seats. “I’ve never been able to break the two minute mark before.”

“You’ve gotten pretty close though.” Dean kicks back and crosses his ankles on the seats below them, stretching out with a groan. “What was it? Two minutes and three seconds, I think?”

In answer, Sam waves over his shoulder and jogs off to the starting line. Castiel clears the timer for his run and Dean shouts for him to start. He watches no less closely as Sam clears the narrow beam and the salmon ladder fairly quickly, but the rest of the course he takes a little slower. Dean was surprisingly light and steady on his feet. But Sam is a little wobblier and he loses time when he slips while running up the slope.

When Castiel finally ends the timer, Sam completes the course with just over three minutes on the clock. It’s clear that Dean is the winner in their little obstacle course running challenge.

Dean cackles in delight and snatches the phone out of his hand, waving it as Sam jogs towards them. “This is going to be _great_.”

“What was the bet?” Castiel hadn’t been paying enough attention to remember what they had been talking about before.

“Sam has to cut his hair.”

“That was _not_ the bet!” Sam stomps up the stands to join them. “The bet was that I would _temporarily_ dye my hair blue.”

_Oh_. Castiel has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Even his great imagination can’t imagine what Sam would look like with blue hair, but just the thought is hilarious.

“There’s always the gun range, Dean.” Sam points at him threateningly. “I’ve always been pretty good with a gun.”

Dean appears unfazed. He hums and taps Castiel’s phone against his chin. “But the question remains, Sammy… Are you better at it than _me_?” He stands up and holds a hand out to Castiel to help him to his feet. “C’mon, Cas. Let’s go shoot some shit up.”

Castiel keeps his grip on Dean’s hand as they head down the bleachers together. “I’ve never even _seen_ a gun before.”

“Oh man, really?” With an exaggerated gasp, Dean brightens with a wicked smile. “We’re poppin’ your _firearms_ cherry? That’s awesome.”

Both Castiel and Sam pull faces at that, but Sam is the one who reaches out and punches Dean on the shoulder. “Ew, don’t say it like that.”

Of course all Dean does is laugh at them. He leads them both to the long, low building sitting opposite the office/Bobby’s house and at angles with the bigger building.

Sam points at the big building as they pass it. “That’s the school. Most of the classes take place in there unless you’re on the range or doing laps.”

There are already a few cars pulled into the dirt lot between all the buildings. Two are in front of the school and one is in front of the office. Thankfully, there’s no one in sight as they reach the main door. Dean produces a key from God knows where to unlock the door, and then Sam swipes a card and punches in a code on a pad next to the door. It swings open, and Castiel is herded inside.

The hall they find themselves in runs the whole width of the building. One side of the hall is filled with windows that look out into the actual shooting gallery, though it’s completely dark on that side of the wall. Dean fixes that a moment later by flicking a row of switches and lighting up the different aisles one by one.

“All the guns are kept out here.” Sam gestures at a wall of various different firearms ranging from very small to –

“Is that an _assault rifle_?” Castiel stares at the massive gun in its own separate case. He’s never seen one in person before, but it looks _very_ intimidating.

“This puppy is just for display. Bobby doesn’t keep any ammo for it anywhere on the grounds.” Dean raps the glass of that case with his knuckles. “And the case is probably the most expensive thing here. Bobby keeps it _very_ safe, and we’ve got a state-of-the-art security system with different levels needed to access even just a gun – not to mention the ammo.”

As he explains, Sam punches a code into a safe on the wall. After the code, he presses his thumb to a sensor before it pops open. From it, he takes out a set of keys and uses them to unlock one of the display cabinets.

“The ammo is stored inside the firing range.” Sam points at the only door leading into the range, which is also secured by a key, card-swipe, and key-code combination.”

Castiel whistles, looking between the security cameras mounted in the corners of the ceiling and the door. “You have a lot of security going on here.” And he understands why. This is the one thing you wouldn’t want to take risks with.

Dean takes two handguns from the case and Sam locks it up again, being sure to put the keys back in the safe and closing it securely. The wall next to the door leading into the firing range is covered in headphones hanging on hooks, paired with a set of safety glasses. Sam takes down three and passes them out while Dean unlocks the door. Castiel puts his on right away.

Inside the range is another safe. This time, Dean unlocks it to the keys that open the ammo locker. He rifles around through neatly labeled boxes of ammunition until he finds what he’s looking for. Castiel alternates between watching him and watching as Sam goes through a bank of drawers. They’ve very thin drawers, and from one of them he pulls out two large sheets of paper – _bulls-eye targets_.

“Here, help me hang these up, Cas.” Sam hands him one and leads him to one of the aisles.

He clips one into a hanger and then holds down a button to send it a specific distance away. They move over to the next lane and repeat with the other bulls-eye paper. By the time they’re done, Dean has finished loading the guns with ammo.

“Cas, you should stay back here.” Dean catches him by the arm and pulls him back to stand by the window into the entry hall. “You can see both of us from here.”

This is exciting, and Castiel’s wings fluff in anticipation as Dean hands off one gun to Sam. They each pick a lane and take up their positions. Their stances are very similar with only slight differences – like Dean bends his knees a little more and Sam drops his head to sight along the gun.

Just because he knows it will be loud, Castiel puts his hands over the headphones to help dampen the sound. He still flinches when Dean takes the first shot. Sam follows almost immediately after, and they alternate shots until they have both fired five rounds each. Castiel only lowers his hands when they start bringing the targets back in and he eagerly moves forward to see who wins.

“Son of a _bitch_.” Dean groans as they hold the papers up next to each other.

“Dammit.” Sam frowns and leans in closer, squinting between the two pages. “I guess you’re not dying your hair too.”

Castiel leans in too. He can hardly tell the difference between the individual shots from how clustered together they are on both bulls-eyes. “They look the same?”

“That’s because they _are_.” With a sigh, Dean hands his paper off to Sam to take to the recycling bin in the corner. “I guess we’re evenly matched with a gun.”

“Well, we could always try another target.” Sam stops at the bank of drawers again and returns with two targets shaped like silhouettes that have been divided into sections. “Most head shots wins?”

While that would normally seem right, that just gives them another area to pinpoint and cluster their shots on. Having to change their aim for each shot would be better.

“But that’s not going to change anything.” Castiel watches as they clip the silhouettes up. “You should try getting a shot in each section.” He points out the two arms, torso, head, and stomach. “The one who shoots the closest to the center of each section wins.”

“I like the way you think.” Dean pats him on the shoulder before shoving him back to where he had been waiting before. “We’re going to do it that way.”

Again, they both take five shots before bringing the papers in. It comes down to Castiel to decide who wins, and it is _very_ difficult. Both Winchesters are _great_ shots, but it’s the torso shot that cinches the win for Sam after he uses his hand to measure it out. The difference between Dean’s shot and Sam’s is scant, but Dean is just a _smidgen_ too far to the left.

“Let’s stop at the office on the way back to get our hair dyed.” Sam hums happily, clearly pleased with having won. “Hopefully she has some leftover blue from when she put streaks in her hair for Hanukkah.”

Dean is not nearly as happy and he crumples the silhouettes into balls. “Fine. Whatever.” He tosses the papers into the recycling bin. “You go get your hair dyed first. I’m going to teach Cas how to fire a gun.”

Castiel crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Who says I _want_ to know how to fire a gun?”

“You don’t?” Dean mimics his expression.

They stare each other down for a few moments before he finally caves with a sigh. “Yes, okay. I want to try it.”

“Knew it!” Dean sticks his tongue out and takes the other gun from Sam. “We’ll see ya later, Sammy.”

“Have fun you guys.” Sam lets himself out of the firing range with a cheeky wave at them. “Play safe!”

Castiel waves after him, only for Dean to grab his wrist and slap the gun into his hand. “Okay, we’ve got seven rounds left in each gun. That should be enough.”

The gun is lighter than he thought it would be. It weighs almost nothing in his hand, though that’s likely due to his super strength. He holds it resting on two palms, unsure of how he should carry it while Dean gets another standard bulls-eye paper and gets it set up on the lane they’re going to use. When he sends it down the line, he only puts it at about half the distance that Dean and Sam were using.

When Dean finally notices how he’s holding it, he laughs. “Okay, first things first, gun safety rules.”

Castiel listens attentively as he lists them on, and he memorizes the different parts of the gun as Dean points them out. Most especially, he makes note of the safety switch – something that Sam must have engaged before Dean took the gun from him. Following that, Dean walks him through a solid stance and how to hold the gun.

At first, he has Castiel mimic him, and then he makes adjustments with gentle touches. He nudges Castiel’s stance a little wider by tapping the inside of his foot with his own; uses a hand on his shoulder to make him lower his center of gravity. A hand on his hip has him adjust the angle of his body, and Dean stands close behind him – close enough that Castiel can feel his chest against his wings – and reaches around to guide his arms up to adjust his aim.

He bites his lip and holds his breath when he can feel Dean’s breath on the back of his neck.

“Okay, that looks good.” But Dean doesn’t let go of his arms. “Use your thumb to flip that switch there – Yah, just like that. Now the safety is off, so you can put your finger on the trigger. _Never_ have your finger on the trigger unless you’re planning to shoot.”

“And I’m going to shoot now?” Good, a distraction. Dean is standing _far too close_.

Dean nods, and he’s close enough that Castiel can actually feel the gesture. “Yup! Brace yourself because there’s always a little bit of a kickback.”

Castiel hesitates only for a moment before he breathes out slowly and tightens his finger. The bang has him jump and he jerks back into Dean’s chest. He absorbs the impact, but also moves back at the same time to avoid putting pressure against the joints of Castiel’s wings. The gun jerks upwards slightly, but Dean tightens his grip enough to stop it going too high.

“Good job, Cas!”

“But I missed the target.”

Dean’s laughter puffs against the back of his neck and sends goosebumps rippling under his clothes. But he’s given no chance to complain as Dean drops his hands and steps back. “Okay, try again.”

Anything for a chance to distract himself.

Castiel tilts his head and closes one eye to sight along the gun like Dean said he should. He’s more prepared for the kickback with the next shot, and it actually clips the paper this time. Even as inexperienced as he is, he can tell that his shots are pulling a bit to the side and he adjusts accordingly. With each consecutive shot, he leads a jerky line across the paper. The last of them is fairly close to the center of the bulls-eye – enough for Castiel to be satisfied with his progress, at least.

“You’re doing _awesome_.” Dean squeezes his shoulder as he takes the empty gun. “Do you want to keep trying? We have another seven shots in the other gun.”

“Yes!” He picks up the one that has since been forgotten on the counter in front of him.

Adrenaline is thumping in his ears and making his feathers shiver. He fixes his stance again, with only a minor adjustment to his hips by Dean, and then he takes his first shot – only to find that his aim is off again. It takes two more shots to correct it again, but he still can’t quite hit the bulls-eye by the time he finishes the clip in this gun too.

“You sure this is your first time?” Dean flashes him a bring grin when he’s done. “I’m pretty sure you just did better than I did when Bobby let me shoot for the first time.”

Castiel is practically vibrating after that, bouncing from one foot to the other. “That was fun!”

“Isn’t it?” His smile softens into something distinctly fond. The kind of smile that makes Castiel melt a little. “And now I get to show you how to clean your gun. Unless… Do you want to keep going?”

He considers it for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I think I’m good now.”

In fact, the adrenaline is starting to make his hands shake a little and that won’t help him perfect his accuracy. If anything, he’ll get frustrated and upset and he’d rather keep the happy feeling he has right now. Besides, he’s here for a week. There’s always tomorrow, or even later today, to practice again. It’s certainly a good way to wake oneself up in the morning.

With that decided, Dean walks him through taking the gun apart and showing him how to clean it with the supplies arranged on top of a shelf running along the window. It’s interesting to see how guns come apart and go back together again, and the whole process is surprisingly calming. By the time they’re done, Castiel has come down from his adrenaline high.

After cleaning up the spent ammo and locking the case up again, they leave the firing range. Castiel hangs their headphones and eye protection up again while Dean puts the guns away in the case and locks everything up.

“When we’re on the job, we don’t actually use bullets.” It’s an explanation that Dean has given once before, but that was a long time ago and Castiel is happy to hear it again. “We use tranquilizers most of the time, but Bobby has the range here to teach accuracy and proper gun control. He found that most students in the beginning were lacking even the most basic knowledge about it, and I think that actually _hurt_ him.”

“Something he couldn’t abide by, hm?” Castiel has only known him for less than half an hour and he can already tell about Bobby. “But won’t a tranquilizer fire differently from a bullet?”

Dean nods as he turns off all the lights. “It’s not _that_ different, but we start learning with bullets and then work our way up to the tranquilizers. It’s easier that way.”

Castiel hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t _quite_ understand. There must be a method to Bobby’s madness, but his knowledge of guns is lacking too much to form a proper opinion on it.

Any thought he has on the matter is effectively driven from his mind the moment they step outside. Several more cars have pulled into the dirt lot in front of the school; one even driving by them as the door slams closed behind them. Immediately, Castiel’s heart is in his throat and it gets hard to breathe. His wings flatten to his back; curving against his shoulders.

“Breathe, Cas.” Dean grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly. “Just breathe. We’re going to the office and no one is even going to notice us. They’re more interested in getting to class on time.”

“Why –” Castiel swallows thickly, but his voice is horribly strained. “Why are we going to the office?”

“Well, I’m not going to dye _my_ bathtub blue.” Dean rolls his eyes and starts walking, tugging him after him across the dirt lot. “We’re going to use Bobby’s, obviously.”

Castiel keeps his eyes locked on the front door of the office. “And you’re going to do it on your own?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Pam is probably doing Sam’s hair right now. She knows how to use the dye. I’d probably fuck it up somehow since I’ve never dyed hair before. Have you?”

“No?” Aunt Amara gets her hair done at the salon, and Anna’s red hair is completely natural.

Dean shrugs. “Then there we go. Pam’s gonna have to do me too.”

Castiel wrinkles his nose at that choice of wording. He chews his lip as they cross the lot, grateful that Dean walks between him and the cars. It does leave his right side fully open to the main road and the entry to the parking lot, but that’s not where the people are right now and it doesn’t seem like anyone is driving along it at the moment.

And what about Pam, or Bobby? They’re going to see his wings and – and Castiel needs to make himself okay with that. Because it _is_ okay. They both know that he has wings. They both know that he’s a mutant. Pam has even seen his wings in one of her visions at some point, and God knows what she ‘_saw_’ in the flash she had yesterday evening. Maybe it was about his past, or his future, or – It really could have been anything.

At this point, Pam might know more about him than anyone else – after the Winchesters and his family, of course. So, logically, he shouldn’t be nervous about him seeing his wings. He shouldn’t be nervous that the number of people alive today who have seen his wings can be counted on one hand, and that number is about to grow.

They go in through the front door today and Castiel follows Dean’s lead of not taking off his shoes. Of course, they do pause to scuff them considerably on the mat just inside the door. Dean doesn’t let go of his hand and leads him through into the living room area. Unsurprisingly, Bobby is sitting at his desk again and Castiel tries _very hard_ not to freak out.

Bobby barely spares him a glance when he looks up. He just nods in greeting before turning to Dean. “Sam’s upstairs with Pam. Something about hair dye?”

Dean grins bright. “Oh, I can’t _wait_ to see this.”

Castiel clears his throat and squeezes Dean’s hand, but he can barely get his voice above a whisper. “You have to dye your hair too.”

His smile falls instantly. “Dammit, Cas.”

Bobby shakes his head and looks back down at his books. This prompts Dean to lean forward over the desk and check out what he’s working on. “Dude, when are you going to upgrade to a computer system, huh? Working on paper is a thing of the _past_.”

Without a word, Bobby pushes back from the desk. He opens the main drawer in the center and pulls out a laptop – one of better quality than what Dean has been using. It’s actually even better than what Castiel brought to work on. His laptop is fairly old and he should probably upgrade it soon. It’s covered as a work expense, so he can write it off – which means there’s no reason really for him to keep putting it off like he’s been doing.

“Looking at student applications that came in the _mail_ ain’t the same thing, idjit.” Bobby waves the laptop in Dean’s face before putting it away again. “I use this puppy for everything else. Pam even upgraded us to using _Wi-Fi_.”

Castiel bites his lip when Bobby pronounces it as ‘_whiffy_’, but Dean actually snorts. When that gets him a dirty look, he holds up both hands and backs away from the desk. “I concede!” He grabs Castiel’s hand again and starts pulling him towards the stairs. “C’mon, Cas. Let’s go see what Sam’s up to.”

As they’re leaving the room, Bobby calls after them. “Nice feathers, by the way.”

It feels like Castiel’s heart stops. He stumbles, even as Dean smiles back at him. “See? I told you it was going to be okay.”

But he just showed his wings to someone who is basically a _stranger_ to him, and the world is starting to spin in front of his eyes. And why is it so hard to just get his breath back?

Dean stops them at the base of the stairs and catches his face between his hands. “Cas. Hey, I need you to just stop and breathe for me, okay?”

Castiel covers Dean’s hands with his own and focuses on his eyes. The only way to get to breathing regularly again is through counting each breath, and he tries his hardest to keep to it. Either that or he’ll spiral head on into the building panic attack.

His focus slowly shifts to Dean’s freckles. They’re faint, but there, and he starts counting those as his breathing evens out. Dean matches his breathing – in through the nose and out through the mouth. Every breath can be felt on his face, right along with the head of his hands. The sound of it fills his ears, until it’s the only sound he can hear.

It takes several minutes, but when his heart rate slows down enough, Dean smiles. “That’s it. You’re doing great, Cas.” He slides his hands down Castiel’s neck, over his shoulders, and catches his hands in his. “Do you want to head upstairs now?”

He nods, but doesn’t look away from Dean’s face. Which means that Dean has to go up the stairs backwards, pulling Castiel along with him as he murmurs encouragement. They make it all the way to the top of the stairs like that before they stop again.

“We can sit here and wait for a bit. How’s that sound?”

Castiel nods again and sinks down to sit on the top stair. He leans forward until his head is between his knees and hopes he stops feeling so lightheaded soon.

Dean sits next to him and rubs firm circles at the base of his neck. It’s nice, but it could be nicer. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “Lower.”

The rubbing pauses for a moment before it slowly circles lower – dipping down until Dean needs to switch to a petting gesture instead. The space between Castiel’s wing joints is covered in downy feathers. They spread a little around his wings, but it’s not a lot. Dean pets the space between his wings until Castiel relaxes enough to lean into his side.

“You’re doing great, Cas.”

“You can stop saying that.” He sighs and tilts his head onto Dean’s shoulder.

“But you _are_.” Dean drops his voice into a quiet rumble. “I expected you to have a breakdown like this an hour ago.” That gets him a slap to the knee, but he just hums and catches Castiel’s hand with his other one, holding it there. “Was that what bath time and going to bed early was about last night too?”

Castiel presses his lips together, unsure if he should say anything about it. He doesn’t want to have to explain to Dean _why_ he started freaking out last night. Eventually, he reaches a decision. “Yes, and no.”

There’s disappointment in Dean’s voice, and he rests his cheek against the top of Castiel’s head. “You’re not going to expand on that for me, are you?”

“No.”

Dean snorts, clearly having expected that answer. “Fine, fine. Do you want to come watch me get my hair dyed blue? Otherwise, I can send Sammy out here to wait with you while it’s my turn.”

As much as he would like to watch it happen in person, Castiel can’t really bring himself to move from this spot at the moment. “I – I think I’ll wait here.”

“Okay.” Dean slings his arm around his shoulders and gives him a half hug before standing up.

Castiel immediately misses the heat of him against his side, but he squashes that feeling to watch Dean head up the hallway. He stops at one of the doors, which must be the bathroom. It’s the only room where the door is actually open. There are three other doors. One of them has beads hanging over it and curtains parted in front of it. He can’t help but wonder who that room might belong to. His money is on it being Pam’s.

“Wow.” Dean whistles and it falls apart into a laugh. “Looking _great_, Sammy.”

“Shut up!”

Pam’s voice is the next to come from the bathroom. “How long do you want this to stay in for?”

“How long do I need to make sure that it washes out in a week?” Sam doesn’t sound very happy about this at all.

She hums in thought. “Oh, not long.”

“Long enough for you to do my hair before you need to wash his?” Dean leans against the door frame and flashes a grin back towards Castiel.

“Sounds about right, I guess.” Pam sounds like she’s caught between amused and exasperated with the Winchester antics. Castiel knows that feeling _very_ well. “You boys really need to up your betting game. This is getting _sad_.”

Dean sticks his tongue out at her and steps back into the hall. “Sammy, you go wait with Cas at the stairs.” He gestures back down the hall. “It’s my turn on the throne.”

Sam’s groan starts in the bathroom and he continues it as he shuffles out into the hall. There’s a towel around his shoulders and his long hair is a goopy blue mess on the top of his head. Castiel stifles a laugh behind his hand and looks away sharply at the glare he gets for it.

“This is _dumb_.” Sam drops heavily into the space next to him.

“It’s funny, though.” Castiel can’t stop smiling now that he sees how silly it looks. “Anna will be mad that she’s missing all of this.”

He pauses, realizing that she doesn’t actually have to miss this. Sam glares at him the whole time Castiel gets his phone out and opens the camera app. Even with Sam grimacing so darkly at him, Castiel takes a picture of it and immediately sends it off to his shared chat with Anna and his Aunt. They’ll both get a kick out of it, and imagining their reactions brightens his mood considerably.

“You _suck_.” Sam crosses his arms and hunches over his knees.

Castiel chuckles quietly to himself as he types out an explanation for _why_ Sam’s hair is being dyed blue. He also promises to get a similar picture of Dean when he’s done too.

Turns out, that’s only a few minutes later. Dean’s hair is _much_ shorter than Sam’s and he walks out of the bathroom surprisingly quickly. He has a towel around his shoulders too, protecting his too-tight shirt from the dye.

“Okay, Sammy.” Dean jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Time for you to go hang your head in the tub and let Pam have at you again.”

As of summoned, Pam shows up in the doorway. She has latex gloves on and the fingers are all dyed blue. She crooks a finger at Sam, beckoning him. “I promise I’ll be _really_ gentle.” She winks, and Sam blushes, ducking his head as he stands up. But instead of paying attention to him, Pam is looking at Castiel. “What about you, handsome? You want a run with my magic fingers?” She wiggles them at him as emphasis.

“I like my hair the way it is.” His wings draw up tight and he turns to face her more to hide them. “Thank you, but I didn’t lose any bets.”

Pam shrugs, not even paying the slightest bit of attention to his wings. “Your loss!” She disappears back inside the bathroom with Sam in tow. The splash of water in the tub starts running moments later.

Dean comes back down the hall and leans against the banister. He grins down at Castiel, eyebrows raised comically. “How do I look?”

Castiel raises his phone and takes a quick picture. “You look fantastic.”

“Hey! Don’t you _dare _–”

He makes a wild grab for the phone, but Castiel leans out of reach and quickly sends the picture off to the group chat again. Anna and Aunt Amara both reply with separate laughing gifs. He turns it around to show Dean their reactions.

“Oh my God, you _suck_.” Dean groans and drops his face into his hands.

“Sam said the same thing.” Castiel doesn’t feel bothered by it. He knows he doesn’t suck, and he knows that Dean thinks the world of him.

Dean grumbles unintelligible noises into his hands before lifting his head to glare at him again. “I should make you dye your hair just for this.”

“But you wouldn’t be able to do that because I’m stronger than you.” He shrugs and responds to some of the questions in his chat.

At the prevailing silence, Castiel looks up, confused. Dean is staring down at him with an inscrutable expression, though his face is growing steadily redder. It reaches a cherry red by the time he looks away.

He crosses his arms on the banister. “What’s that gotta do with anything?”

Castiel cocks his head to the side, his confusion only growing. “Because you wouldn’t be able to hold me still long enough to do it?” He shrugs and looks down at the phone again. “But Anna is saying that I should let you dye my hair so I’m not the odd man out.”

That gets an interested hum and Dean drums his fingers on the banister. “What if I did it? You’re probably not comfortable with Pam doing it, but I think I could do a decent job. It’s literally just rubbing goop into your hair and then waiting five minutes.”

Should he? It would be another new experience for him. Castiel has never dyed his hair before. Would it be fun? And it would just be temporary. Something that would wash out. Who would see it even? It’s not like he goes out in public to feel embarrassed by it.

He fidgets with his phone for a few moments before sighing. “Okay, fine.”

Dean punches the air with a cackle. “Yes!” He turns and jogs back to the bathroom. “Hey, Cas wants to dye his hair too! Do you have a spare set of those gloves?”

“In the box.”

Castiel doesn’t bother informing Anna or Aunt Amara about what he’s going to do. It’ll just be a fun surprise for them in a bit. He still feels a little apprehensive of all this when Dean comes back with another towel and gloves on. Dean drapes the towel around his shoulders as he kneels behind him. There’s no warning before the dye is squirted into his hair. It’s a little cool and Castiel sucks in a sharp breath, closing his eyes as it’s worked into hair carefully.

“Your scalp is going to be blue for a while.” Dean is careful to keep it from escaping his hairline. “But that will wash off really quick.”

“I have the feeling that you’re more familiar with hair dye than you let on.”

Dean hesitates a moment. “Maybe Sammy and I make bets like this more than we should. It’s one of the least permanent things we can do.”

“How pragmatic of you.” Castiel rolls his eyes, though he can’t help but wonder what they did before they finally decided on betting with _hair dye_.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean stands up and peels off his gloves. “I’m all done. You keep this in until I call you into the bathroom, okay?”

Castiel shifts in place and rubs at the back of his neck, just shy of where the dye starts. “It itches.”

“Don’t touch!” He slaps his hand. “It doesn’t itch. It just feels weird because you’re not used to it.”

He feels ridiculous, and that’s when it occurs to him something he should have really thought of before making this decision. “Will the blue even show? My hair is fairly dark.”

“Probably not a lot.” Dean shrugs and helps him to his feet.

Castiel follows him to the bathroom to find Sam sitting on the lid of the toilet. He’s bent over slightly as Pam wraps his hair up in a towel and tucks it into a turban. The towel itself is already stained in all manner of colours. In fact, now that Castiel looks closely at them, _all_ the towels are mottled. They must be reserved for when the Winchesters make bets like this.

“You’re up, cutie.” Pam gestures at Dean, but she winks at Cas.

Dean huffs and steps into the bathroom, shuffling around Sam as he makes his way out. He drops to his knees next to the tub and Pam unhooks the detachable shower head from the wall. Castiel watches, amused, as she starts washing Dean’s hair. She’s humming a tune to herself, and grins when Dean complains about the temperature of the water. Apparently she didn’t bother warming it up first.

It takes a little too long for Castiel to realize that he’s not panicking about Pam being able to see his wings right now. Is it because they’re mostly hidden under the towel around his shoulders? The towel isn’t exactly a full shield like his coat, or even like a large sweater, but apparently it’s enough to help with his anxieties. She’s also not looking at him while she washes Dean’s hair with a healthy application of shampoo.

Sam having his wet hair up in a towel turban is also an amusing distraction. So amusing, in fact, that Castiel has to take a picture of it for the chat. It’s a requirement at this point, and he really should be documenting more of his day. Not just for Anna and Aunt Amara’s sakes, but for his own memories as well. Today has been an exciting day between the obstacle course, the firing range, and now this. And they haven’t even had lunch yet!

Despite the brief panic attack Dean helped him through earlier, Castiel is actually looking forward to what the rest of the day – and the week – will be like.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Wednesday – August 22nd, 2018_ **

“Here, hold this.” Dean shoves a still warm casserole dish covered in tin-foil into Castiel’s hands and turns to the fridge. From it, he takes out two six-packs of beer. “Sammy, do you have the popcorn and cards? We need at least four bags of popcorn.”

In answer, Sam holds up the bag in his hand. “I even grabbed _two_ packs of cards.”

“Awesome.” He turns to Castiel again and tilts his head to the door. “Alright, buddy, it’s _party time_.”

Castiel looks down at the casserole – which smells _heavenly_ and is already making his stomach rumble with anticipation. “Since when do parties require casseroles?”

“When it’s a dinner party, Cas.” Dean shakes his head and heads for the door, since no one took up his physical cue that it was time to leave. “Keep up.”

They head out, Sam bringing up the rear so he can lock the door behind them, and troop across the dirt lane to Bobby’s house. Every day that they go outside with his wings out makes it easier to do this, but Castiel still can’t help glancing around, worried that someone might see them. Thankfully, there’s rarely anyone else on the property at this point in the evening, and when they are it’s on the _other_ side of the office or in the school itself.

Bobby has the table already set up for dinner, with the rolling office chair again at the end to seat the fifth member of their little group. Castiel hasn’t spent _that_ much time with Bobby and Pam since he got here. A few hours, cumulatively, maybe. Like walking around with his wings out, the exposure to them really helps. He can see similarities between them and the Winchesters, and it’s helping him to adjust quite well. Especially because neither one of them gives his wings any form of attention – unlike Dean, who can be caught staring at them every now and then.

Castiel nods at Pam and Bobby in greeting as he puts the casserole dish on the table. He takes the same seat he’s sat in for every meal that they’ve shared here, with Sam on his left and Dean taking the rolling chair on his right. Bobby is already seated across from him, grumbling about ‘_dumbass students_’ while glaring at his phone. Pam is swaying her hips to some music coming from the living room while she dumps a bagged salad into a bowl and mixes it.

“You want a beer too, Cas?” Dean opens one of the six packs and puts the other in the fridge.

Normally he doesn’t drink unless it’s a special holiday of some kind – like New Year’s Eve. And he’s not exactly the biggest fan of beer in the first place. Even so, Castiel nods and accepts the bottle as Dean sets one out for everyone else. He’ll have one, maybe two, but that will be his limit before he switches to water to get the taste out of his mouth.

Sam starts serving up the casserole, and Pam brings the salad to the table. She clears her throat loudly and hip-checks Bobby in the shoulder once, twice, three times before he finally shoves her into her seat and puts his phone away.

“Did this old grump tell you about my vision this morning?” Pam drops into her seat and adds salad to her plate. “I hate it when I get a vision while I’m in the shower.”

“I didn’t tell anyone anything.” Bobby makes a face as he takes a swig of his beer. “Ain’t no business of mine to be spreading your business.”

Castiel waits for Sam to take some salad before it’s his turn. “What was the vision about?”

“I saw a bird flying into a window. Sure enough, when I got here this morning, there was a poor little thing twitching on the ground at the side of the house.” She tilts her head to indicate which side. “I gathered him up and he’s chilling out in my room in a shoebox. I’m going to take him to the vet on my way home and they’ll release him when he’s all better.”

It’s nice that she’s caring for the bird, but Castiel is more interested in something else she said. “You arrived this morning?”

“Aw, that’s cute. You think I live here?” Pam laughs and shakes her head. “No, kiddo, I live in town. Bobby is the only fool here who lives where he works.”

Bobby shrugs and picks at his casserole; raising an eyebrow at the pieces of biscuits beneath the creamy chicken, cheese, and bacon on top of it. “It’s better than spending hours outta my day driving back and forth just to get a paycheck.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” Pam pats him on his cheek and he smacks her hand away.

“But you said you have a room here?” Does that mean she stays here on occasion?

Pam laughs and flashes him a bright smile. “Bobby’s got his office.” She nods at the desk in the living room. “And I have mine.” She gestures at the ceiling.

Castiel remembers the one door in the hall upstairs that really stood out. “The one with the curtains?”

“Bingo!” Pam almost looks impressed. “I keep half the room looking all mystical and shit because I like the aesthetic for when I’m doing my readings. The other half is where I keep all the files and the stuff I need for when I’m doing the books.”

Bobby slaps a hand down on the table with an “_Ah-hah_!”, though it still makes all the rest of them jump. Dean even drops his fork in surprise. “Speaking of books, Chambers finished his hunt and needs the payment forwarded. That daughter of his is about to start her last year of high school and, apparently, they’re already saving up for her to start classes here after she graduates.”

“Like father, like daughter.” Pam sighs, but she pulls out her phone and must make a note in it or something. “Are his results in the system?”

“’Course they are.”

“Then I’ll look at it in the morning.” She puts her phone away again. “It’s after business hours, Bobby, and we’re _eating_. No shop talk at the dinner table.”

He huffs and takes another long draught from his beer, again making a face at it. “What piss water did you bring me this time, Dean?”

“It’s not piss water, Bobby!” Dean sits up straighter. “It’s from _The Family Business_. It’s a new brewery down in Texas. I thought we could give it a try, and it’s not half bad.”

“He likes whiskey better.” Pam pats Bobby on the shoulder. “But he’s got a point, old man. It’s pretty good beer.”

Castiel nods in agreement. He doesn’t even like beer, and even he can agree that it’s not bad. Bobby, however, remains unconvinced. He rolls his eyes, finishes off the bottle, and gets up to pour himself a few fingers of whiskey.

Dean leans over to whisper, rather loudly, into Castiel’s ear. “Beer snob.”

That makes him snort a laugh. At Bobby’s raised eyebrow, Castiel ducks his head and pretends to be _really_ focused on the [chicken bacon ranch casserole](https://drizzlemeskinny.com/creamy-chicken-bacon-ranch-bubble-up/). Dean called it a ‘_bubble up_’ of some kind, but Castiel has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. He doesn’t much care either. It’s cheesy and the biscuit pieces at the bottom are light and fluffy, and it’s _delicious_.

The rest of their dinner is carried out with light conversation until both the salad bowl and the casserole dish are all but polished clean. Clean up is quick and the second case of beer is opened as they settle back at the table for a few rounds of poker.

Pam, a literal _psychic_, cleans up and Castiel suspects she may be cheating. Of course, he doesn’t dare say anything, because what if she isn’t? It would just look bad on him, especially since nobody else is saying anything – except to complain about their bad luck. She does, however, look _really _smug as she sweeps all the chips towards herself. Thankfully, they’re not actually playing with money. Or, at least, Castiel isn’t. He’s not entirely sure about whether or not the others think differently.

When they all get sick of losing, Sam starts putting the bags of popcorn they brought in the microwave. One by one he heats them all until he’s got three large bowls worth popped. It’s now time for _movie night_, which Dean insists is a staple whenever they’re back at Bobby’s.

“It’s my turn to choose.” Bobby picks up the remote to turn the TV on and open Netflix. “We’re gonna watch _Old Yeller_.”

“Why do you hate being happy?” Pam takes the remote from him. “And it’s _my_ turn. I’m in a Bruce Willis mood and we’re watching _Die Hard_.”

Dean groans and flops back on the couch. “I wanted to watch Lord of the Rings.”

“There’s a new documentary out that –”

“_No_!” Sam is cut off in unison by everyone except Castiel. He crosses his arms and slouches in his corner of the couch with an exaggerated pout.

After a moment of Pam clicking through the available choices, trying to find her movie while ignoring the death glares Bobby keeps shooting her, Dean leans forward sharply and plucks the remote from her hand. “Actually, Cas is the guest so _he_ gets to choose.” He turns to him with wide, puppy like eyes and a small smile. “You’ll pick something _good_, won’t you, Cas?”

It appears that he’s the tie breaker here. Everyone is looking at him expectantly, Sam included. Dean has even resorted to fluttering his eyelashes at him, but Castiel resolutely ignores it as he continues searching through Netflix until something catches his eye. Eventually, he settles on _The Mummy_. The choice causes groans all around, but no one makes an effort to stop it from playing.

The only real complaint his selection gets is from Dean, and it’s just because he picked the one that doesn’t feature _Brendan Fraser_.

Everyone settles back in their respective seats; Bobby behind his desk so he can continue working since he apparently never stops, Pamela kicked back in a recliner, and the Winchesters and Castiel on the couch. With a pillow between his wings, Castiel is able to sit back and kick up his feet on the coffee table with the popcorn bowl in his lap so the three of them can eat from it with ease.

It’s a pretty nice night, all around, and he’s glad that he made the trip.

*

** _Friday – August 24th, 2018_ **

Even though it’s not even been a full week, Castiel has fallen into a bit of a ritual. Every morning, before classes start, he goes to the gun range and trains with the Winchesters, though sometimes Sam doesn’t stick around and heads off to do whatever it is that he likes to do. His aim has improved quite a lot since his first attempt. In fact, aside from the odd outlier, he’s been consecutively getting bullseyes since Wednesday.

Today, though, Dean decides that it’s time to up the ante. When they enter the range and get the ammo, instead of getting out the paper targets, the Winchesters prepare _moving_ ones. Castiel watches as Dean and Sam climb over the counter that divides where the shooters stand from the rest of the range. They head down to where there are a number of tracks in the floor and start folding up frames that click into the tracks. On the top of each frame is a bright orange triangle pockmarked with dents from countless target practices.

When they return, Dean gestures at the targets. “Those frames slide back and forth along the track. Their movements are more or less random, so there’s no point looking for patterns.” To prove it, he flips a switch that starts them rattling back and forth across the entire width of the shooting range. There are five in total and they jerk along until they really get momentum.

“How’s that look?” Dean grins at him, eyebrows raised. “Looks fun, doesn’t it?”

“No, it looks _impossible_.” Castiel can already feel his ego withering. There’s no way he’s going to be able to hit those.

Dean sighs and guides Castiel out of the way. “Sammy, show him how it’s done.”

Sam posts up in the center lane where he has the best view of all the moving targets. The ammo clip is sitting next to the empty gun and he picks both up, sliding the clip into place with practiced ease. Castiel is almost envious of how natural the two of them are with holding a weapon.

For a few moments, Sam watches the targets move. He keeps the gun pointed at the floor during that time, his finger resting along the barrel. It’s quite sudden when he brings the gun up sharply and takes aim. With five consecutive _bangs_, all of the triangles fall over and Castiel’s jaw drops. Dean turns off the tracks again to make the frames stop.

“Good job, Sammy!” He claps his brother on the shoulder, beaming like a proud parent.

Even though he goes a bit pink in the cheeks, Sam shrugs and nonchalantly flips the safety on. “I’ve been shooting those things since I was a tween. Give me something _challenging_.” He turns and holds the gun out, grip first. “Your turn, Cas.”

Dean hops the counter and jogs down the range to reset the triangles. In the meantime, Sam explains further about this exercise. “We use hollow points when we’re doing the moving targets. They expand on impact and don’t have as much of a ricochet.”

Castiel nods, too nervous about trying (and likely failing) to actually say anything. His wings shiver against his back as he waits for Dean to be safely behind him. Then, and only then, does he lift the gun and adopt the stance he’s been using all week. Sam continues to talk about how he should try leading the target, and there’s no rush so Castiel doesn’t need to shoot them down as fast as he did.

“And you should move too. Don’t keep the gun fixed at one point and wait for the target to move into place.” Sam steps further back. “Turn off the safety and give it a shot.”

Most of the explanation goes over Castiel’s head. He doesn’t quite understand what Sam means by most, but he’ll try.

Of course, once the targets are moving again, everything just looks that much more difficult. Sure enough, his first shot misses entirely, then his second, and his third, and – And Castiel goes through the whole clip without knocking over a single one of the targets. His wings are drooping by the time Dean turns the whole thing off again.

“Aw, don’t pout, Cas.” Dean drapes an arm around his shoulders and squeezes. “This is really hard for first timers. I missed _a lot_ my first time too.”

“Practice makes perfect.” Sam fetches another clip from the ammo locker. “Do you want to try again?”

Castiel looks down at the gun with a frown. He places it on the counter and turns away from it, arms crossed and feathers fluffing out. “No.”

Dean bites his lip, eyes lingering a moment too long on Castiel’s wings. “You won’t get better if you don’t practice.”

Sam picks up the gun, the only one they took out of the cabinets today, and swaps out the clips. He holds it out until Castiel takes it again. “Dean can guide you this time.”

But he doesn’t _want_ a guide. He wants to be good at something immediately. The stationary targets were so much easier. They lulled him into a false sense of security and now he’s had the carpet pulled out from under him. What if he doesn’t hit a single target after going through another seventeen shots? That would be _mortifying_ in front of such accomplished shooters like Dean and Sam.

His inflated ego has most definitely been popped.

“C’mon, Cas. I’ll show you.”

Dean turns him around again with a hand on his shoulder and steps up behind him. Castiel spreads his feet and raises his arms. Like the first time Dean taught him how to shoot, he cups under his arms and stands close enough to feel his chest against his wings. It takes everything for Castiel not to blush at the proximity – especially after he’s done so well with _not_ overthinking about sharing a bed all week after his little freak out on Monday night.

Though one thing they’ve discovered this week is that, apparently, he has a penchant for covering Dean with a wing when he’s dead asleep. Castiel doesn’t mind that so much. As long as he doesn’t think about certain _other_ things, then he’s fine. Just fine. Not at all concerned with the fact that he –

No! That’s thinking about it and he’s _not going to think about it_.

Sam flips the switch and starts the targets moving again. They’re a good distraction and Castiel forces himself to relax enough to allow Dean to guide his arms, showing him how to lead the target while sighting along the gun together. They lead targets for longer than Castiel feels necessary, before Dean’s voice is in his ear; deep and smooth and telling him to fire.

His heart hopscotches up into his throat, but he squeezes the trigger on reflex and is immediately distracted by the quiet _ping_ as his shot grazes the edge of one of the targets. It’s enough to knock it over and Castiel is elated with that little bit of progress. Dean guides him through doing that with three more targets before he lets go and Castiel tries for the last one on his own.

Miss.

Miss.

_Hit_!

Castiel flips the safety on and puts the gun down before he turns excitedly to the Winchesters. “I did it!” And then he sees Sam’s phone in his hands and his face falls. “And you filmed the whole thing.”

Sam whistles a jaunty, innocent tune as he lowers his phone and starts tapping at it. Castiel knows exactly what he’s doing and he groans. “And now you’re sending it to Anna and Auntie, aren’t you?”

“Damn right we are.” Dean is far too pleased with himself as he leans over to see what Sam is typing.

“I thought that video of you washing the dye out of my hair was enough payback for the pictures I sent them about it.” Castiel crosses his arms and glares between the two of them.

Dean hushes him with a flap of the hand. “This isn’t payback. It’s just showing them how proud they should be of you.”

“_Liar_.” He sticks his tongue out at them.

Neither seems to care about the accusation and Sam sends the messages off with a grin. Satisfied, Dean vaults the counter again. “We’ll try it one more time. At least until you’re out of bullets.”

This time, Dean only helps him with the first target. The rest he does on his own. Now that he knows what it’s like to lead a target, it’s a little easier. Proof of that is how he only has two targets left standing by the time he runs out of bullets.

The blow to his ego doesn’t feel half as bad anymore and Castiel quietly preens under the praise the Winchesters heap on him while they clean up.

Since he needs to get a few hours of transcribing done today, they decide it’s a good time to head back to the apartment now. On the walk there, Castiel checks his phone and the group chat between the Winchesters and his family so he can see exactly _what_ is being said about the video Sam shared. It gives him a chance to view the video too and see what he looks like and – Well. He looks pretty badass.

That’s his first thought, at least. Castiel watches the video on silent so he doesn’t draw more attention to them while they’re outdoors. Watching the video gives him something to focus on while his wings are out in the open. It’s easier after doing this every day since they got here, but there’s always an anxious curl of nerves in his chest that he can’t quite ignore completely.

Dean and Sam chat next to him about what they plan to do while Castiel is working. He doesn’t pay any attention to them because the video is _very _distracting. Yes, he looks badass, but he also can’t help noticing how well Dean fits against his back in the video, even with his wings in the way. And there’s something – just _something_ – about how focused Dean looks while he’s training him.

It makes something _swoop_ through Castiel’s chest.

But then the Dean in the video closes his eyes briefly. He almost seems to lean into Castiel, even though he can’t recall feeling that in the heat of the moment, before he’s stepping away with a smile. It’s so soft and proud and – and the swoop comes back again with a vengeance.

Castiel is so enraptured by how Dean is practically _glowing _with pride in the video that he’s not watching where he’s going. He nearly falls on his face when he trips on the stairs leading up to their apartment. Luckily, Dean and Sam grab him under the arms to keep him from fully going to his knees.

“Distracted much, Cas? Jeeze.” Dean teases and starts up the stairs first.

“S-sorry.” He puts his phone away so it doesn’t happen again.

As soon as they’re in the apartment, Castiel goes straight to the kitchen table so he can boot up his laptop and get started on transcribing. Anything to get the images of that video out of his head. It’s not the time for him to sit and analyze his feelings. He can do that when he’s home again. Alone. Without the Winchesters around to poke and prod and ask why he’s acting the way that he is.

Sam disappears into his bedroom with his laptop, but Dean makes himself comfortable in the living room with his headphones and a video game. Even though Castiel is _very_ much aware that they’re in the same room, it should hopefully not be enough to distract him. Especially since Dean is lying down on the couch and isn’t actually in his line of sight.

Once the headphones are in place and the recordings have started, it gets easier to forget everything else and just fall into his _work zone_.

*

After he finished work, Castiel played some video games with the Winchesters. They ordered pizza for dinner at Bobby’s again and watched another movie as a mishmash of family. They’ve only just returned to the apartment when Dean claps his hands together loudly to get their attention.

“Cas!” He turns to him, hands on his hips. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning and I think you need to run the obstacle course while we’re still here.”

Both Sam and Dean have run the course every morning this week to chip away at their times. Castiel only watched them the first time. Every day after that, they let him sleep in. Try as he might, Castiel is _not_ a morning person. It doesn’t matter how early he goes to sleep, it’s just so difficult to get out of bed in the morning – even when there’s coffee waiting for him.

Truthfully, he isn’t all that tired right now. He could probably run the obstacle course, but it’s dark out and he’s not really sure if he’s even allowed. “Can I?”

“Sure.” Dean shrugs and glances at Sam, getting the same answer. “Bobby doesn’t mind. I checked with him about training you on the gun too and he was fine with that.”

And, for the first time that week, Castiel realizes something he should have asked before. “Speaking of, should I be paying for all the ammo I’ve used?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam takes a hoodie out of the closet and pulls it on. “Bobby just takes it out of our paychecks.”

“What?” Castiel looks between them both with a frown. “Let me pay for _some_ of it!”

“Nope!” Dean steps in and taps him on the nose with a little ‘_boop_’ sound. “Now go get your runners on. I wanna see you _sweat_.”

Castiel feels his whole face flush at that, and Dean drops his hand. He stares for longer than is wholly comfortable and Castiel quickly pushes past him before he can be questioned about his reaction. While he might be a virgin, he is certainly not _naïve_. Innuendo doesn’t _always_ go over his head, and that just – The _things_ Dean says sometimes –

He really needs to stop letting them get to him. It’s starting to be a problem.

Even though all he needs to change are his pants, from jeans to sweats, Castiel takes longer than necessary in the bedroom just to gather himself. He doesn’t want to go back out there while still blushing. And if anyone tries to ask him what that was all about, he’ll ignore them. Because he’s gotten _very_ good at ignoring things this week. It’s the only way for him to get through five nights of sharing a bed with Dean.

His sneakers are at the front because he’s just been wearing those all week. Dean and Sam are whispering to each other at the door, but they pull apart when he comes around the corner.

“Ready to go?” Dean jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the door.

“Just a moment.” Castiel slips his feet into his runners, and then crouches to untie them and tie them back up again. They’ve been loose for easy slip on and he doesn’t want to risk losing a shoe while he’s trying _not_ to fall on his face.

Classes are long done for the day and the school building is dark as they cross the property. The obstacle course and the running track – where Sam has done a few laps every day – are lit by dim stadium lights. Dean ducks away into the school for a few moments on their way by, and the reason why becomes apparent when the lights brighten considerably.

He jogs to catch up with them as they come upon the lone stand of bleachers. “Hey, Sammy, why don’t you run the course again to show Cas how it’s done?”

“Why me?” Sam hunches his shoulders and shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie. Castiel regrets not bringing one himself. The evening is much cooler than expected.

“Because you’re the sporty one in this relationship.” The tone Dean uses makes it sound like that’s supposed to be a known fact.

Sam rolls his eyes and starts up the bleachers. “I _jog_ in the mornings. How does that make me _sporty_?”

He has a point, and Castiel nods in agreement. “And, if I recall, _you’re_ the one with the better time on this course, Dean.”

“Yeah, but –”

Castiel hushes him with a wave of the hand. “Besides, I don’t need an example.” He has a fairly good memory and can easily remember what he’s supposed to do – in theory. “You two can just go sit and watch me make a fool of myself.”

He’s not going to even _try_ to trick himself here. Castiel isn’t even remotely an athlete. Sure, he jogs intermittently on a treadmill at home, and he even lifts weights on occasion. But he slacks on that more often than he should.

Hopefully it doesn’t take him an _obscene_ amount of time to complete the course. Anything more than five minutes will be – God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. He already knows that it’s going to go terribly, but at least he can hope he doesn’t fall on his face _too_ much.

Standing at the start of the course is more daunting than he thought it would be. There’s a little starting platform that’s a few feet off the ground. He climbs the stairs onto it and _wow_. The narrow starting beam looks a lot thinner in person than it did all the way from the bleachers.

“Get started, Cas!” Dean calls out, excitedly. “You can do it!”

He probably can, but this is all _very_ intimidating.

Castiel takes a deep breath and forces himself forward, one foot at a time. One in front of the other. There’s no way he can sprint across this thing like the Winchesters did, so he goes _much_ slower – arms and wings spread to help him with his balance. Even that isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. How anyone could _run_ on this thing is beyond him.

Obviously, the Winchesters are insane.

And then he reaches the small platform before the salmon ladder and is brutally reminded about its existence. He comes to a stop and stares at the bar. He forgot all about it in his rush to get across just the narrow beam, and now – Now what? Sure, he’s got some super strength, but how is that supposed to help him with this?

He hesitates, trying to remember how Dean and Sam did this. It certainly wasn’t effortless for them, but they knew what they were doing. Castiel has never done anything even _remotely_ like this before.

Standing around isn’t doing him much good. He might as well just get it over with and _try_.

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Castiel leans out to grab the bar and swing himself off the platform. And that brings him to just – just _hanging_ there. How is he supposed to do this again? There are different rungs where the bar is supposed to go up, somehow. While he’s still _hanging_ from it.

God, this is going to be difficult.

Castiel takes a deep breath and rolls his body upwards, trying to use the momentum to swing up enough to take his weight off the bar and let him move it up to the next rung. It’s a good theory, and it works in practice too. Sort of. He manages to bring the bar up and off the first rung, but he entirely misses the one above it and drops right to the sand below. Unfortunately, he’s still mid-roll, so his feet are raised and he lands on his ass.

It’s not that far of a fall, but still. _Ow_.

Dean is standing over him a moment later. “Y’okay there, bud?”

“That is more difficult than it looks.” Castiel glares at the bar still in his hands before using it to brace himself to get back to his feet.

“You were really close to getting the right form for it.” Dean takes the bar from him while he slaps the sand off his clothes. “You just need to get the coordination down too.”

Castiel mutters darkly to himself as Dean pulls himself up onto the platform and puts the bar back on the lowest rung. Castiel manages to get himself up too, with a little help from Dean. It’s either that, or go back and do the balance beam again and he’d really rather not. The platform is only a few feet off the ground anyways, so it’s not very hard.

“Okay, try again.” Dean steps out of the way. “I’ll spot you.”

“Can’t I just skip this one?” Castiel points to the wobbly platform higher up. There’s really only a height difference of something like three feet from where they’re standing now.

The rungs of the salmon ladder are roughly one foot apart, as far as he can tell, but he has to go up several of them to be high enough to easily swing himself to drop onto the platform. Castiel grimaces at the many rungs. He can’t even do _one_ and he’s supposed to do _several_? This is quickly souring his mood, and he’d had such a good day today!

“Just try it, Cas.” Dean makes encouraging gestures, as if he can somehow shoo Castiel onto the bar again. “It’s all in the swinging motion. You bring your hips and thighs up as hard as you can when you swing, and then you just yank the bar up and over the next rung.”

It sounds very similar to a pull up, and Castiel groans. “Dean, I have never done a pull up in my life. I don’t think –”

“You don’t _need_ to be able to do pull ups. You just need to swing and use your momentum. Watch.”

Dean grabs the bar and lets himself step off the edge of the platform. He hangs from it for a moment before doing the swing motion as slowly as he can. Castiel, however, isn’t watching the example like he should be. His eyes are glued to how Dean’s shirt has ridden up, exposing a sliver of his back.

Why is that distracting? It shouldn’t be! Dean has slowly been losing more articles of clothing the longer they’ve known each other. Now he just sleeps in his boxers or a pair of pajama pants every night. This shouldn’t be affecting Castiel now, or ever!

After repeating the motion a few times, Dean swings himself backwards until he can get his feet on the platform again. He grunts and rights himself, pinwheeling only slightly to gain his balance. Once he’s situated, he steps out of the way. “Your turn.”

Castiel opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then swallows thickly. “Can I see it again?”

“Nope.” Dean shakes his head. “Do it.”

Damn it.

He sighs and steps off the platform to hang from the bar again. Castiel’s hands hurt a little holding his weight up like this, but forces himself to ignore it all. It takes a little focus to try and mimic what he may or may not have seen Dean do. The only thing he can see in his mind’s eye is a tantalizing inch of skin and the scars that criss-crossed over it.

Dean calls out tips while Castiel tries swinging himself up again. His grip on the bar brings it up with him, but he doesn’t manage to pull it back far enough and it just falls right back into the same rung.

At least he didn’t end up on his ass again.

“Close! Try again, but this time jerk it back and forward as you’re coming up.” Dean is standing at the very edge of the platform, as if he could somehow grab Castiel if he were to fall again. “You’ll slip right into the rung above it.”

Easier said than done.

Castiel tries again, this time getting more airtime, but it’s still not enough to make it into the next rung. Fifth time’s the charm, though. Once he makes it into the next rung, he finds the rhythm and moves onto the next one. The rhythm involves not thinking about Dean at all; focusing only on the lift and drop, lift and drop, lift and drop – until he’s all the way to the top.

From there, he’s able to swing forward and drop onto the next platform. It wobbles dangerously under him and Castiel loses his balance, dropping to his knees. His fingers are aching and he clutches them to his chest, breathing hard to catch his breath again.

This platform is much higher off the ground. Castiel eyeballs it at maybe six feet? It’s higher than he’s comfortable with and he swallows thickly as he peeks over the edge. A clattering sound behind him has him twisting around, nearly slipping from the platform as it wobbles uncertainly. Dean has a pole from God-knows-where and he’s using it to knock the bar off the ladder. It falls into his waiting hand and he puts it right back where it belongs on the first rung.

Instead of using the salmon ladder to get up to where Castiel is, Dean hops down to the sand and jogs forward to the next obstacle. “Okay, now these are pretty simple! You just have to jump from one to the other. You can hold onto the top if you don’t think you can get enough speed to just bounce it.”

When Dean and Sam did this the other day, both of them simply did one foot per flatform. It was like watching a ninja run across rocks over a river or something. Castiel was impressed then, and now he’s envious of how easy they made it look. Because when he jumps to the first one, his foot skids on the angled pad and he crashes into it, clinging to the top so he doesn’t slip right off it.

What he should have noticed from the bleachers, and what he is only figuring out now, is that the pads also go downwards slightly. Each one is a little lower than the last as he jump-clings to them one after another. There are eight in total and end with a jump to a mat on the flat lead up to the curved wall, the whole of which is resting on the ground.

“Good job, Cas!” Dean claps as he keeps even with him from the sidelines. “Now this one is pretty easy. It’s all about speed and traction. You’re going to do fine.”

Like a fool, Castiel believes him despite how he was just _jinxed_.

He sprints as fast as he can along the lead up and as far up the wall as he can go – until his foot slips and this time he really does fall on his face. He swears loudly as he skids down the steep curve. His old sneakers maybe don’t have as much traction as they once did.

“Oh fuck.” Dean hisses and then he’s right there, helping him to his feet. “That looked like it hurt.”

“It _did_.” And it’s not just his face that took a blow.

“Jesus, Cas, you’re bleeding.”

The moment Dean reaches for his face, Castiel automatically slaps his hand away. “Don’t you _dare_.”

Dean’s lips thin out into a grim line and he narrows his eyes briefly. Finally, he lowers his hand and pulls a tissue out of his pocket instead. He presses it to Castiel’s nose to stem the bleeding. But what matters is that there’s no red glowing veins under his skin, so he’s not using his powers on him.

“You’ve got a bit of a scrape here too. Maybe we should call it a day and go back to the apartment?” Dean also rubs his thumb over Castiel’s forehead, brushing dirt away. It stings slightly, and he must have something similar to rug burn there. Thankfully, it’s also not bleeding. “You got halfway through the course and that’s actually pretty good for a first timer.”

Castiel frowns and stares up at the curved wall and the platform it leads up to. It’s _at least_ ten feet high. Possibly fifteen? No, it just _looks_ impossibly higher than it probably is.

Part of him would love to give up here and go take a nice relaxing bath. But his ego rears its ugly head and there’s no way he can just back down now. Both his pride and his face are burning, and he won’t tolerate being beaten by an inanimate object.

“I’m going again.” He wipes the blood from under his nose and marches back to the cushioned mat.

Dean steps out of the way as Castiel tries again. He runs up the wall as high as he can and tries to jump for the ledge. It almost surprises him when his wings flap of their own accord. Instincts trying to help him, perhaps? He nearly misses grabbing the edge of the platform above while distracted by it. They don’t often _move_ like that – and especially without him consciously doing it.

They keep flapping, despite being clipped, as he struggles to pull himself up over the ledge. His sneakers squeak on the wall as he tries to get some kind of footing or traction. Whether any of that helps or not remains to be seen, but Castiel manages to get up over the edge of the platform until he’s able to splay out on his stomach and catch his breath.

The salmon ladder is still the most difficult obstacle so far, but this one is a close second.

It takes him a while to get up and face the next obstacle. And oh, thank _God_ it’s just a zipline. That should be simple enough.

Or so he thinks.

Castiel doesn’t remember that it’s not a smooth descent until he’s already sliding down to the next platform. It jerks roughly down the line, nearly making him lose his grip before he’s able to drop safely onto the next platform that marks the break before the narrow cross bars.

Lord have mercy, they’re like the narrow beam at the beginning, these are much thinner than he thought they were. It’s like monkey bars, but for his feet. And he’s supposed to run across these and _not_ fall over? Castiel knows for a fact that they’re not all supporting at the ends and some of them are only posts in the middle – ones that allow them to tip dangerously to either side. This isn’t just a game of speed and balance, it’s a game of _memory_ too.

“Dean!” He turns to where Dean is, of course, watching from the sidelines. “Is it better to land on the balls of my feet, or the heel? Or should I go with the center of my foot?”

Dean snorts and bounces in place. “Up to you! Sammy uses the center, and I use the balls.”

Ugh, not useful. Castiel sighs and turns back. Looks like it’s time for some trial and error – one of his least favourite methods of doing literally _anything._

He gets three bars in, on the middle of his feet so he doesn’t accidentally have his toes slip off the bar or something, before the one he steps on tilts drastically to the side. Castiel pitches in that direction, not even having the time to flail in any attempt to save his balance. Before he knows it, he’s crashing into the sand again; landing hard on his right shoulder. That hurts, but there’s also a jolt at the base of his right wing that actually hurts more.

Thankfully, he was only three feet up, so the fall didn’t hurt as much as it could have.

“The trick for this one is speed and keeping to the center of every bar.” Dean pulls him to his feet again, and this time he helps to slap the sand away.

Castiel flaps his wings to knock the sand out of his feathers, and there’s _definitely _a dull pulse of pain at the base of his right wing. His shoulder is throbbing too, but he ignores them both in favour of finishing the obstacle course. He’s only got the net wall to scale after this and then he’ll basically be finished.

He all but stomps over to the platform to climb back up and start all over again. There’s fifteen or so of the bars to get over, and he gets ten in on his second try before he ends up in the sand again.

Castiel can’t remember the last time he’s sworn this much. But he picks himself up and tries again. Dean keeps pace with him at the edge of the sand, and he whoops loudly when Castiel jumps from the last one onto the net wall. And that is just as easy as he thought it would be; especially compared to everything else.

The slope on the other side of the net wall is steeper than he thought it was. When Dean and Sam went down it, whatever way they slid down it was still technically on their feet when they reached the bottom. Chances are that Castiel doesn’t have the ridiculous amount of balance needed to do that, so he elects to skid down it on his butt. It’s not very dignified, but it gets the job done.

Once he reaches the bottom, Castiel jumps to his feet and sprints as fast as he can over the finish line. His time is probably horrific at this point, but every second counts. He’s barely passed over the bright red line painted on the ground before Dean is crashing into him. In an impressive feat of strength, Castiel is lifted from his feet and actually spun in a circle.

“You did it, Cas!” Dean shouts, clearly more excited for him than he is himself. “You did it!”

“Yes, I did.” Castiel struggles out of his hold, blaming his red face on being out of breath and sweating, and _not_ because of Dean’s exuberance. “And I do _not_ want to know my time.”

“Don’t worry. I turned the timer off when you fell on your face.” Sam joins them with a laugh and a hearty clap to Castiel’s shoulders that nearly sends him to his knees, especially now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off and he’s starting to feel like he could sleep for a year. “But you did a good job! We didn’t tell you before, but most students don’t even finish the course on their first try.”

That does make Castiel feel better about his time then. “Oh good. At least I don’t _totally_ suck.” Dean cackles at that, but the exhaustion is settling in quick for him and Castiel rubs a tired hand over his face. “I need a bath. I think I got sand in my underwear.”

Dean snorts and pats him low on his back. “Yeah, that shit gets _everywhere_.”

“We should probably turn in soon anyways.” Sam rolls up his sleeve to check the time. “Bobby said that he’s going to make a big breakfast for us before we head out tomorrow.”

Castiel stretches, turning so he doesn’t hit either of the Winchesters as he spreads his wings. “Well, then. Let’s go.” He ignores how Dean bites his lips and shamelessly stares at his wings.

Turning in for the night seems to be a unanimous decision and they start back home, pausing only to allow Dean to dim the lights around the field again.

The first thing Castiel does when they get back is gather pajama pants and towels. The hot water of the bath soothes his sore muscles, but his right shoulder objects a lot when washing his hair, forcing him to do it with just his left hand. He must have wrenched it fairly hard when he fell on it, and he grimaces at his reflection in the mirror when he’s drying off.

Aches and pains are flaring to life all over, highlighting just how out of shape he is. His forehead is red and scratched, and his nose is equally red – though the bleeding has long since stopped. Castiel vows to work out more as he stretches his right wing and winces at the pain in the base of it. There’s a similar ache building in the base of the left one, and isn’t that just peachy? That’s all he needs for the long drive ahead of them tomorrow. He’ll load up on painkillers in the morning and hopefully that will help make it a comfortable ride.

Once he’s dressed in his pajama pants, Castiel returns to Dean’s bedroom to find him in the midst of packing his duffle bag. They nod at each other as Castiel folds up his dirty clothes and shoves them into his suitcase. Everything else is all packed up and the only thing left out of it are his toiletries in the bathroom and the clothing he’ll wear in the morning.

Dean makes a show of shaking out his Deadpool hoodie when he takes it out of the closet. “This is my favourite sweater, you know.”

“I know.” Castiel sees him wear it often.

He smiles down at his own suitcase as Dean takes great care in folding the hoodie and lovingly tucks it into his duffle. The necklace he made out of Castiel’s feather is swinging against his chest. He tries not to let it catch his eye too much.

When Dean takes his duffle bag to the living room, he takes the small suitcase with Castiel’s work things with him. He returns a few moments later, and stops in the doorway with a frown. “Cas?”

“Yes?” He doesn’t bother looking up as he rearranges his suitcase to leave space for his pajamas in the morning and his toiletries.

“There’s – uh –” Dean pauses. “Your back is leaking?”

Castiel looks over his shoulder at him. “What?”

Dean answers by stepping closer and swiping his fingers across his mid-back; not too far beneath where the downy feathers surround the base of his wings. There’s a thick, clear fluid on his fingers when he holds them up after, and Castiel’s heart nearly stops when he sees it. His stomach drops to his feet as he grabs the towel he had used to dry his hair. He uses it to quickly clean Dean’s hand and then, ignoring the jolt of pain in his shoulder, he scrubs at his back.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean shifts in front of him. “You’re playing the panicky silent type right now, and it’s not a good look on you.”

“It’s nothing.” And perhaps he would sound more convincing if his voice wasn’t two octaves too high.

The ache in the base of his wings suddenly makes sense now. They must have been jarred by the fall and the glands, likely already close to popping, were irritated. Now one of them is _leaking_, leaving Castiel scrambling to try and remember when was the last time that he – ugh – _milked_ them. When was the last time he even preened his wings?

His memories come up blank, and he gestures for Dean to get out of the way. “I need to go to the bathroom. Please excuse me.”

Instead of moving, Dean spreads his stance to further block the door. There’s a knowing look in his eye that Castiel immediately hates. “It’s your oil gland, isn’t it?”

He blanches; a lump rising in his throat. “I – I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean ignores him. “When was the last time you took care of them, Cas?” He tilts his head, trying to catch his eyes. “Not just the glands, but your wings too?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Dean.” Castiel lifts his head a little higher, hoping he doesn’t look as queasy as he feels. “Please move.”

But he doesn’t. “Nope. That’s not going to work on me this time, Cas.” His expression turns grim; _serious_. Sam peeks out of his bedroom across the hall, but otherwise says nothing. “I know you skip meals when you’re on your own, and you eat shitty ready-made food when no one is around. You’re getting better at taking care of yourself, but you’re not taking care of _all_ of yourself. You –”

“You’re not my mother.”

Dean sighs. “I’m not _trying_ to be your mother, Cas. I’m your _friend_, and I worry about you.” And yet he still sounds like a frustrated parent talking to a child.

Castiel crosses his arms tightly, wings curling over his shoulder. “You don’t need to _worry_ about me. I’m in my thirties, for God’s sake.”

“Then fucking _act_ like it and take care of yourself.” Dean steps forward sharply. “That includes your damn wings, Cas.”

The accusation in his tone makes him bristle, feathers fluffing in anger. Dean mirrors his crossed arms and he plants his feet a little wider, as if he’s expecting Castiel to charge him.

Now that he’s been made aware of it, Castiel can feel the slow ooze of oil from the down feathers under his wings. He shudders at the feeling and the lump in his throat grows tighter. The damn glands need to be drained, and he might as well preen his wings while he’s at it – even if he hates the thought of it.

“I can’t go and take care of my wings until you get out of my way.”

Dean narrows his eyes, as if contemplating whether or not Castiel is telling the truth. After a moment, he steps to the side. Castiel brushes past him, quickly fleeing to the bathroom again. His reflection glares back at him as he washes his hands. They shake slightly as he dries them, and shake even harder when he braces one hand against the counter and the other reaches up and under and – _Fuck_.

He hisses through his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut as his shoulder seizes. Reaching up under his back feels almost impossible. It aches _so badly_. How is he supposed to take care of the damn gland when he can’t even _reach_ it? Castiel doesn’t have any problem with his left side when he tries reaching that, but his right is – It _hurts_. If he keeps trying to force it, this will only hurt more.

Castiel bites his lip and glances at the door. If he doesn’t deal with it, the pain will only get worse and he’ll have a _leaking_ situation until the damn things are drained again.

With a loud swear, Castiel kicks the cabinet under the sink. That hurts too and he stomps his foot to deal with that pain because _damn it_. He can’t believe that he’s actually going to do this. But he doesn’t have a choice, does he? A slow drain might actually be _worse_.

It still takes him several long minutes before he unlocks the door and stomps out into the living room again. The door to Dean’s bedroom is shut, and Sam is putting his duffle bag down behind the couch.

He glances up, eyebrow raised. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

Castiel can’t look him in the eye. “Where’s Dean?”

“Sulking in his room.” Sam shrugs, as if the answer is incredibly obvious. Which, to be fair, it is.

Great. Just great. He grumbles and stomps into the kitchen. The garbage can under the sink is empty, the garbage taken out earlier in preparation for them leaving. Castiel puts a new bag in it and takes that with him, stopping only to get another new towel from the linen closet.

“This might be a while.” Castiel spares Sam a glance, unsure of how to explain what he’s about to do.

“Good luck.”

When Castiel lets himself into the bedroom again, closing the door behind him, it’s to find Dean spread eagle on the bed with his face buried in a pillow. He groans loudly, muffled only slightly. “G’way, Sam.”

“I’m not Sam.”

Dean turns his head out of the pillow and looks Castiel up and down. He sits up slowly, frowning. “No way you’re done yet.”

“I’m not.” Castiel shoves the garbage can into Dean’s hands and spreads the towel out over the edge of the bed.

“Uh – what’s this for?” Dean looks down at the garbage can, frown falling into confusion.

“For if either one of us feels the need to throw up.” He grimaces as his stomach bubbles uncomfortably and turns to sit on the towel, his back to Dean. “I hurt my shoulder when I fell off the course and it hurts to try and deal with the right side.”

A conspicuous silence follows, and then Dean clears his throat. “Y-you – uh – you want _me_ to help?”

Castiel shakes his head. “We are _not_ going to talk about it – talk about _this_. Now or ever.” He takes a deep breath and angles his left arm behind his back. “You do the right side; I’m going to do the other.”

“But you’re mad at me, right?” Dean still sounds confused. “Why didn’t you ask Sam to do it?”

That’s a very good question, and it brings Castiel to a complete stop. He brings his arm forward to hold his hands in his lap and he stares down at them. Why _didn’t_ he ask Sam to help him? He never even stopped to consider it, even though he was upset with Dean. The only person that came to mind when he decided he needed help was – Well, it’s not Sam sitting behind him, is it?

Castiel is good friends with Sam, but it’s not _his_ bed that he’s spent the last week in. And Sam isn’t the one who shared his bed at home before. And he’s not the one who looks at Castiel like he’s something precious. Sam doesn’t make him _feel_ the same way that Dean does.

He doesn’t know how to answer, and instead reaches up under his left wing again. Castiel bites his lip as he pinches the gland to release the oil. It twinges, obviously sore and swollen. Touching it and feeling the slick ooze between his fingers makes him cringe, but he swallows against the rising bile and folds his left wing forward and under his arm. Without a word, he starts working the waxy oil into his feathers.

Dean scoots forward until he’s sitting cross-legged behind him. Castiel can feel his knees pressing against him. The first hesitant touch of fingers makes him hold his breath as they drag up his back, scooping up what’s already leaked from the other gland. Slowly, Dean starts rubbing the oil into the feathers of his other wing. Castiel chews his lip as he pinches the feathers between his fingers and drags them down to the tip, working the oil in.

It should be said that Dean is very attentive with what he does. He starts at the base of the wing without any prompting, and even goes so far as to gather what’s in the downy feathers under the gland so not a drop goes to waste. But when it comes time for him to actually _touch_ the gland though, Castiel hunches his shoulders and drops his head.

The inevitable disgust is just moments away.

An unbearably warm hand spreads over his left side and Castiel holds his breath. Dean strokes his thumb against the thin skin under his ribs, but otherwise says nothing as the fingers of his other hand gently search through the downy feathers under his right wing until they find the gland. Castiel wipes his hands on the towel and covers his mouth to swallow against another bubble of bile.

This is it. This is where Dean tells him that he’s gross. Where his mutation is too _inhuman_ for him. This is where any attraction that Dean had for him is gone; blown away like a puff of smoke in the wind. But then Dean’s too-warm fingers find the gland and Castiel twitches. He jerks forward with a gasp at the jolt that runs through him when he actually _squeezes_.

“Shit” Dean pulls away completely. “Did I hurt you?” There’s not a hint of disgust in his voice. It’s full of concern, but that’s not what has Castiel staring open mouthed at the floor.

He swallows thickly and shakes his head, sitting up straight again so Dean can continue. “It’s fine.”

It still takes a minute before Dean returns to work again. The moment he squeezes the glad again, Castiel claps his hand over his mouth again to muffle a rumbling groan. It feels – Why in the world does it feel _good_?

Whenever he does this himself, he’s obviously disgusted by it, but there’s always a relief to it. That’s mostly because Castiel waits until he’s aching before he forces himself to do it. And then he just feels sick afterwards.

Dean – though – Dean doesn’t say anything.

Castiel glances over his shoulder to find him red-faced and staring at him in awe. There’s not a sign of disgust anywhere on his face. If anything, Castiel might almost say that he’s –

“Um.” Dean licks his lips and visibly swallows. “That – uh – that sounded like a good thing?”

“I – I –” He can’t think of a single thing to say. His whole body feels like it’s on fire and Castiel looks away sharply. “Just finish.” His face is _burning_ as he returns to dealing with his left wing. It proves to be more difficult than it was before, as his hands are shaking so badly that he actually tweaks one of his feathers.

It’s almost sweet how much care Dean takes with his wing. Castiel, however, almost draws blood by biting his lip to keep from making a sound every time Dean has to touch the gland. Even so, he can’t stop himself from shivering at every squeeze, or keep his wings from twitching. He doesn’t get the same reaction when he touches the left gland while dealing with his wing.

With both of them preening his wings, it takes less than half the time that it normally does. Castiel doesn’t even have to stop to breathe through the bouts of disgust – because, strangely, no more occur. It’s most likely because he’s far too distracted – _confounded_ – by how his body is reacting.

As soon as they’re done, Castiel stands up and gathers the towel to wipe their hands. He does it quickly and efficiently, carefully not meeting Dean’s eyes. Even so, he’s well aware that Dean is staring up at him like – like he’s seen the face of God or something equally ridiculous. And, for some reason, there’s a pillow covering his lap. Was he using it to support his elbows while he worked?

Castiel opens his mouth to say something – anything, really. A thank you. A confirmation that they never speak of this again. But the moment he parts his lips, Dean springs off the bed with the pillow held firmly over his lap. He disappears out of the bedroom and into the bathroom so quickly that Castiel almost doubts whether or not super speed is a part of his mutation.

And that’s when the realization hits him regarding the true purpose of the pillow.

Given what had happened on Monday night, Castiel fully expects a panic or anxiety attack to form moments after figuring out that Dean got _aroused_ while they were preening his wings. But nothing happens. He’s just left staring dumbly at the door, his brain nothing but white noise. It must be the shock. That has to be it. He’s too shocked to have any kind of attack right now.

Sam leans through the doorway, expression curious. “Are you guys all done?”

“Um.” Castiel can only blink at him, still trying to wrap his head around the realization. His thought processes have ground to a complete halt.

“Your wings are looking good.” Sam nods at them as he steps into the room. After a moment, he picks up the garbage can from where it had been abandoned at the end of the bed. “Do you want me to take the towel too?”

Castiel lets the towel be taken from his hands. “Um.”

The sound of the shower starting up makes him flinch. Sam’s smile slips slightly and he closes his eyes for a moment. He breathes hard through his nose before brightening up again. “I know we were all planning on turning in early, but what do you think about watching one last movie with me? I’m not really feeling that tired right now.”

“Um.” Castiel opens and closes his mouth a few times. He’s never been so aware of a shower running, or how hot he feels from head to toe. “Okay?”

“Great!”

Sam leads the way out of the bedroom, and it takes a moment for Castiel to force his body into stumbling after him. They both walk past the bathroom much faster than necessary. He isn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or not that Sam is also apparently well aware of what is likely happening on the other side of that door.

They get settled in the living room, each on their respective sofa, and Sam gets Netflix open quickly. Castiel is far too aware of the running water and the occasional thump of Dean moving around the shower to even notice what movie is selected. He is, however, well aware that the volume is turned up louder than usual – as if to drown out the sound of the shower.

That just makes him feel like dying all the more.

It’s twenty minutes – _twenty whole minutes_ – before the shower turns off. It’s still even longer before Dean finally comes out of the bathroom. He doesn’t join them afterwards; shutting himself up in his bedroom while Castiel and Sam finish watching the movie.

Well, _Sam_ finishes the movie. Castiel decides that the best course of action is to pull the blanket off the back of the couch and pretend to fall asleep. This way, he can spend the night here and not have to face Dean again tonight. His brain hasn’t fully come back online after whatever the hell happened in the bedroom, and he’s still waiting for an anxiety attack to hit.

And he just – he can’t be around Dean when that happens. Not this time.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Saturday – August 25th, 2018_ **

It’s been a while since Castiel had such a bad night of sleep. Since he’s on the couch, he doesn’t have much room for tossing and turning. He makes up for it by changing between lying on his side or on his stomach; kicking off the blanket and pulling it back up. No matter what he does, Castiel can’t get comfortable and that’s on both the outside _and_ the inside.

If he’s not shifting around, then he’s staring at the little glowing lights of the equipment lined up neatly on the shelves under and around the TV. He doesn’t quite think about anything. It’s mostly unformed thoughts circling the edges of his brain, just out of reach. And, sometimes, one of those thoughts solidifies enough to remind him that _Dean got aroused while preening his _wings, and then Castiel has to turn his face into the pillow to silently scream.

And, of course, the night wouldn’t be complete with having to struggle his way through an anxiety attack or too. But Castiel has had more than a decade managing those, and he closes his eyes and counts his way through them whenever his pulse starts picking up. There isn’t much else he can do for those besides try _really hard _to think of different things.

One such thing that he likes to focus on is what it’s going to be like when he gets home again. This week is the first time since he moved that he’s spent the night somewhere else – let alone _multiple nights – _and around strangers, no less! It’s been like he’s in a whole different world and he hopes there won’t be any kind of dysphoria when he gets back. Will he find it difficult to fall back into his old routines and habits? Or will it be like he never left?

But, of _course,_ something like this had to happen on his last night here. Nothing could ever just be easy for him. Everything had been going so well and now – Now Castiel really hopes that this won’t spoil the overall experience. He’s already well aware of the fact that it definitely coloured how he felt about yesterday. It had been a _good_ day but now all he can think about is what happened in the evening.

Last night paired with Monday night where he got – Jesus, did he really get _jealous_ over one of Dean’s ex-girlfriends? How he reacted to that was _so _embarrassing. Even now, nearly a full week later, Castiel can’t help covering his face with his hands and feeling the heat of his blush. It shouldn’t matter, but he doesn’t like the idea that someone else got to see a side of Dean that he hasn’t. Respectively, there’s probably _a lot_ about Dean that he doesn’t know, and yet _this_ is what set him off?

It’s not like Castiel _wants_ to see Dean in lacy panties.

Right?

_Right_?

Castiel swears under his breath and turns onto his stomach to hide his face in the pillow again. These aren’t the kind of thoughts that help him get to sleep and he really needs to start thinking about other things now.

How he manages to fall asleep in the end is unknown, but Castiel wakes up with a jolt to the morning light filling the living room. It takes him a moment to realize that the sound that woke him was the front door closing.

The bathroom door opens and he blinks dumbly as Sam comes out with a towel around his shoulders and a toothbrush in his mouth. He waves and shuffles into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee, mixing it with one hand while brushing his teeth with the other. Other than that, there’s no other sound in the apartment and Castiel realizes, in an absent sort of way, that Dean isn’t here right now.

He slowly extracts himself from the blanket that got twisted between his legs during the night. Sam is back in the bathroom by the time he makes his way into the bedroom. Sure enough, Dean isn’t here, and the duffle bags belonging to the Winchesters weren’t behind the couch anymore. The only thing there was Castiel’s smaller suitcase with his work things. His main suitcase has been moved to the bed, left open and waiting for him to change and put the last of his things away.

Dean must have set it out for him, but why didn’t he wake him? He’s woken Castiel every single morning this week – just like he does most mornings when he visits.

A pit opens in his stomach when he realizes that Dean is avoiding him.

Sam confirms as much when he’s finished brushing his teeth. He stops in the bedroom doorway before entering his own room. “Oh, are you looking for Dean? He took some of the bags down for loading. I think he said something about going to Bobby’s to help make breakfast. Apparently, they’re going all out with it to say goodbye to you.”

At any other time, that might have made him happy. Right now, Castiel can’t really get past the fact that Dean is avoiding him. Did last night really change that much between them?

He fumbles his way through changing from his pajamas into jeans. His feathers feel weird now that they’ve been preened; sleek and soft against his skin. They don’t catch so easily on each other or his clothing; fitting together nicely against his back. Castiel wrinkles his nose at it as he pulls his binder into place. Over that is a regular t-shirt. Even though it’s still early morning, it’s far too warm for him to put a sweater on over top of it.

His coat is a different matter and he’ll put that on for the car ride.

If it wasn’t for what happened last night, Castiel might have considered having his wings out for the drive back to _Lawrence. _But the fake tattoo on his stomach has faded a lot and he doesn’t think either he or Dean are in the mood to sit down and fix it before they go.

Once he’s done in the bathroom and his suitcase is fully packed, Sam helps him take both down to the Impala. Even though he hasn’t said anything about his wings being bound again, Sam’s eyes linger on his back a little longer than normal. Castiel chooses not to acknowledge it, or the fact that neither of them has really spoken much this morning – let alone the fact that Dean is avoiding him.

Sam’s smiles aren’t doing much to relieve them of the heavy air of _awkwardness_ surrounding Castiel.

When they get to Bobby’s place, it’s to find Dean grim face and rooted in place in front of the stove. He’s making French Toast mechanically, and he barely gives them a nod when he walks in. Bobby grunts a greeting while puttering back and forth between the table and the cupboards, setting it up for a big breakfast. Pam, however, is doing nothing. She’s sitting at the table in what looks to be pajamas; an oversized t-shirt hanging off one shoulder and – are those men’s boxers?

Pam’s eyes are closed and she has a steaming cup of coffee clutched tightly between her hands. Her hair is up in a messy bun and she’s lacking the standard dark makeup that Castiel hasn’t seen her without all week. She looks about as awake as he usually feels most mornings.

“I’m not a morning person.” She cracks open one eye when Castiel gets seated with a coffee of his own.

“Neither am I.” He nods in agreement and helps himself to the packs of sugar. It doesn’t escape Castiel’s notice that Dean twitches slightly at the first words he actually speaks.

Pam stifles a yawn. “I don’t know how Bobby does it.” She leans conspiratorially over the table and drops her voice into a whisper. “I don’t think he actually sleeps.”

Sam drops into the open chair next to Castiel. “The popular theory among most of the students is that Bobby is actually a robot and he just plugs in to recharge while he’s working.”

Castiel hums and looks at the open windows around both the kitchen and in the living room. While the home feels cluttered and dark, there’s actually quite a lot of sunlight spilling across the floor. “Has anyone considered photosynthesis?”

Pam snaps her fingers and ends the gesture with pointing at him, her eyebrows raised. “Now there’s a thought.” She laughs and takes a sip of her coffee before sagging forward onto her elbows again. “Ah, sweet nirvana.”

He understands that feeling well and hums in agreement. Castiel takes a sip of his own coffee, savouring the creamy sweet and only slightly bitter taste. Could it really be called coffee once he’s done adding cream and sugar?

“Move yer ass, Dean.” Bobby draws all their attention as he shoos Dean out of the way. He opens the oven to pull out trays of bacon and sizzling sausages. “And get those eggs in a pan already.”

Castiel sits up a little straighter when Bobby turns to him. He raises an eyebrow under his cap. “How d’you want your eggs?”

Dean is already reaching for a carton of eggs. “I already know.”

Hearing his voice again sends a little shiver through Castiel’s bones. Even still, he thinks he should probably answer Bobby. He’s still looking at him with that expectant eyebrow. “Scrambled –”

“With a lot of pepper and a sprinkling of cheese.” Dean sighs and cracks two eggs into a sizzling pan. “I know. And unless anyone wants otherwise, you’re _all_ getting scrambled.”

Of course Dean knows what he likes. He’s been making him breakfast for nearly a year now – thought not every day, mind you. But it’s been enough times now that Dean has likely memorized how he prefers most of his meals. Acknowledging that makes Castiel’s ribs tingle and it gets just a little bit harder to breathe.

Castiel tries not to make it obvious that he watches Dean over the edge of his coffee cup. He’s moving back and forth in front of the stove; the back of his plaid shirt hiding the flex and pull of the muscles in his back. It’s a pity, really. Dean is quite fit and his clothing covers that all up in addition to the scars he tries to hide.

Sam gets up next to him and Castiel twitches in surprise, nearly splashing the dregs of his coffee down the front of his shirt in his effort to make it look like he _wasn’t_ watching Dean. He manages a sheepish smile as he holds up his coffee when Sam offers to refill both his and Pam’s while he’s up.

It would be better _not_ to let Dean steal his focus again. Instead, Castiel clears his throat and looks to Pam. “Did you stay here last night?”

“Mhmm.” Pam hums and stifles a yawn behind her hand. “Otherwise I would have missed this delightful little morning.” She gestures lazily over her shoulder. “Why, Dean has just been an absolute chatterbox since he arrived.”

Dean snorts, but doesn’t say anything – contradicting her just in that act alone. Bobby, however, seems to have thoughts on the matter. He gives Dean a flinty-eyed squint; his mouth screwed up as if he were going to say something. But he must decide against it, because he seems to settle on shaking his head and getting back to transferring all the cooked food onto platters.

Whether asked to or not, Castiel stands to help bring things to the table. Even though he’s a guest, it just feels too weird to have people wait on him. Granted, he’s never really been a _guest_ anywhere before. Anna and Aunt Amara don’t have him over very often, and when they do, he just treats their home like his own – the same as how they are at his house.

Bobby doesn’t look too happy about it, but he doesn’t stop Castiel from taking bowls of fresh fruit, or the plates of bacon and sausages to the table. And if he notices that Castiel sneaks a strip of bacon before he sits back down again, he doesn’t say anything either. They can just consider it his fee for helping out.

Once everything is ready, Dean brings a towering stack of French Toast to the table. Their individual plates he brings back from the counter with the eggs already carefully divided amongst them. It turns out that Castiel’s plate isn’t the only one without a sprinkling of cheese, but Dean has gone so far as to even add diced peppers to some of the servings. He really is very considerate about the different preferences that everyone has.

If it were any other morning, Dean would have put the plates down with a cheeky ‘_bon appetit_’ or some other amusing (and oddly sweet) way to tell them all to enjoy their meal. Today, he says nothing. He puts their plates down and takes his seat; tucking into his food with his head down and a distinct lack of his usually chipper attitude.

Castiel can’t help feeling like it’s his fault.

Bobby is the last to sit down. As soon as he pulls his chair up, there’s a heavy _THUD_ under the table. Dean hisses and winces before sitting up straighter.

He clears his throat and glances around the table, and Castiel doesn’t miss how he skips over him. “So, uh, it’s supposed to rain today.”

Thank _God_ for something else to think about, otherwise he’d dwell too much on how Dean won’t even look at him. “Will that affect the drive?”

“Nah, they’re not predicting a torrential downpour or anything.” Dean shakes his head and keeps his eyes on his plate. “Sometimes it’s nice to drive in the rain.”

“The sound of the rain always makes me fall asleep.” Sam chimes in as he starts loading his plate.

Castiel nods in agreement. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I _did _fall asleep on the ride.”

Pam hums a thoughtful note as she takes another sip of her coffee. She seems more focused on it than her food. “Didn’t get much sleep last night, huh?” Her knowing gaze slips from Castiel to Dean. “You said the same thing when you came in this morning, didn’t you? I wonder what kept you both up.”

“My scars were hurting.” Dean shrugs and rolls his shoulders.

It’s an immediate answer; quick, as if he had the lie prepared. Castiel presses his lips together, unsure about what to say. He eventually decides on eating a strawberry to buy himself some time. Maybe, if he takes long enough, then he won’t have to answer.

Unfortunately, Pam continues looking at him expectantly while everyone else is eating. None of them seem keen on changing the conversation. Castiel has the odd sensation of feeling like he’s been left to the wolves.

The strawberry goes down a little roughly when he swallows. “Travelling makes me nervous. I was worried about our trip today.”

“Oh, of course.” Pam nods and finally puts her coffee down. “And I’m sure that sleeping on the couch didn’t help either.”

Castiel’s jaw drops and he looks sharply at Dean, assuming that he must have said something about it. Dean, however, chokes on his next bite and Bobby is the one who reaches over to thump him hard in the back to help. He downs a mouthful of orange juice to help, before coughing his throat clear.

They’re both staring at Pam after that. She winks and uses her fork to tap against her temple. “I got a flash about it when I pinched Dean’s ass this morning.”

Despite his near choking, Dean is resolutely focused on his meal when Castiel looks at him. His cheeks, however, give him away. They’re a rosy shade of pink – whether out of embarrassment or something else remains to be seen.

Unfortunately, Castiel is too deep in his lie to try and back pedal now. He shrugs and pours a generous amount of syrup over his French Toast. “I fell asleep watching a movie. It was nice of Sam not to try and wake me when he went to bed.”

“Certainly.” Pam nods and, _finally_, seems to drop the conversation.

It helps that Bobby clears his throat loudly. “So, boys, y’got your next hunt lined up yet?”

Thank God they’re moving on to something else now. Castiel isn’t sure that he likes having someone so _aware_ of things when they shouldn’t be. Pam’s powers unsettle him, and her personality throws him just as much. She’s a nice woman and Castiel _does_ like her, certainly, but she is most definitely an acquired taste.

“No, not yet.” Sam shakes his head. “We’re planning on spending tomorrow at Cas’s place, and then we’re heading out again on Monday. We’ll probably look for a job tomorrow.”

Dean nods in agreement; one cheek bulging with food as he chews. He pauses and swallows tickly before glancing briefly at Castiel. “If - uh - if that’s okay with you? It’s your place, after all.”

It’s not the first that Dean has said to him this morning, but Castiel is used to being the focus of his attention. Being avoided – nearly ignored – has left him craving any attention that Dean will give him. He almost breathes a sigh of relief at being addressed directly.

“Of course.” That said, Castiel does find it difficult to look him in the eye. He instead pushes a piece of French Toast through some syrup. “You’re always welcome to stay with me, Dean.”

He glances up just in time to catch a small smile curl the corner of Dean’s mouth. Their knees bump under the table and it’s not unlike lightning skipping across his skin; zinging from knee to the base of his skull and making him shiver.

Castiel covers it with a cough and quickly turns his attention to Bobby. “Wh-when do new classes start?” He curses himself for that little stutter and the quirked eyebrow it gets him.

Bobby shrugs and takes a hefty bite out of a breakfast sausage. “Monday September third. We’re just finalizing the last of the roster and making sure they’ve all forked over their registration fees now.” He grumbles and viciously stabs another one. “Half those lil’ shits wait until the deadline to pay.”

After a moment, Pam waves her fork in the air. “Remind me to issue a memo to all the teachers. I got a vision about that Gabriel guy when I was entering his file. He’s got a wicked sense of humour _and_ he’s a shrinker. We’re going to have our hands full with that one.”

“A _shrinker_?” Sam snorts a laugh; nearly coughing up his eggs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Pam holds her hands apart; one at head height and the other below the table. She makes a weird whooshing-sucking sound and brings them very close together with only an inch between her palms, and then makes a similar whooshing-blowing sound and pulls them apart again.

She shrugs after. “Y’know. A shrinker.”

“Oh!” Dean snaps his fingers. “He’s _Ant-man_.”

Castiel has long since been fully brought up-to-date on all things Marvel since the Deadpool hoodie was bought. He knows exactly who Scott Lang is and what his powers entail. His laugh is ill timed and catches him by surprise; coffee nearly coming out his nose.

Dean smiles a little bit brighter, but it’s hardly a glimmer of his usual smiles. And then he must realize that they’re smiling at each other, because Dean looks away sharply and hunches his shoulders. It’s almost as if he’s trying to make himself disappear.

Are things so awkward between them that Dean can’t even laugh with him anymore?

Castiel immediately _hates_ it.

Dean should be smiling and bright; carefree and _happy_. He shouldn’t be – shouldn't be whatever _this_ is. Embarrassed? Castiel can’t remember him ever being embarrassed to this extent. Not around _him_, at least. But this – Is he really going to allow what happened between them last night to colour their friendship to such an extent? It may be selfish of him, but Castiel doesn’t want things between them to _change_ because of this.

What if this affects Dean so much that, after they leave on Monday, the Winchesters don’t come back?

The thought _terrifies_ him.

It consumes Castiel’s thoughts so much that he barely remembers what happens at breakfast between that realization and when they’re walking back to the apartment. There were conversations, cleaning up, shaken hands, and he’s pretty sure Pam even patted him on the butt. But it’s all a blur until the world comes back into focus as they’re climbing the stairs back up to the apartment.

A lot of juice and coffee was had at breakfast, and Sam heads the way with the excuse that they should all make one last pitstop in the bathroom before they hit the road. It’s a good idea, but Castiel likes it more for the chance it will give him to talk to Dean while they’re alone.

There was a time when he would have rather avoided any kind of conversation like this. But he values their friendship too much to let this just sit and fester. If Castiel isn’t careful about this, he might lose Dean completely.

The moment Sam disappears into the bathroom, Dean starts finding excuses around the living room to keep himself busy. He folds blankets that are already folded; fluffs pillows long flat from overuse; and even checks the fridge for anything that might expire while they’re gone – which is something he did yesterday long before they had supper at Bobby’s place. Basically, Dean is doing anything he can that doesn’t require him to actually speak to Castiel.

It’s making him feel _very_ unsettled.

Castiel clears his throat. “Dean?”

“Hm?” He answers, but he doesn’t look up from shifting through the things still in the fridge.

That’s not good enough, and Castiel puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Dean, I’m –”

Before he can even get more than a few words in, Dean ducks out from under his hand. “Sorry, Cas. I just found some cream that I should take over to Bobby’s before we go.” And, worse yet, he actually does surface with a carton of cream in hand.

He starts for the door without another word and Castiel panics. The only option left to him isn’t the best, but he grabs Dean’s arm and _pulls_. It’s not the nicest way to do it, but Castiel all but throws Dean into the corner of the kitchen where the counters meet. He hedges him in; planting his hands on the counters to keep him from escaping.

“_Dean_.” Castiel does his best to sound serious and not like he feels like he’s on the verge of falling apart. He ducks his head, trying to catch Dean’s eye. “I would like to talk to you.”

“Using your super strength against me is _cheating_.” Dean sounds oddly breathless as he flushes slightly; red crawling up his neck from under the collar of his turtleneck. Castiel half expected him to go pale in fear, so this is certainly a surprising reaction.

After a moment of deliberation, he decides to ignore that comment and get to the heart of the matter. They only have so much time before Sam is done in the bathroom.

Castiel takes a deep breath. “You’re avoiding me.”

“Am not.” Dean doesn’t sound convincing as he looks away.

“Then look me in the eye while we’re talking.” He grits his teeth against the lump rising in his throat and the sting high in his nose. “You never had a problem with that before.”

Dean’s bottom lip sticks out slightly in an almost-pout. And he continues to resolutely look anywhere _except_ at Castiel. Even with barely a foot between them, Dean feels miles away. And it‘s _heartbreaking_.

Castiel sighs and steps back. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“If I was avoiding you, I wouldn’t have sat next to you during breakfast.” Dean shrugs, rubbing absently at one arm while staring at nothing over Castiel’s shoulder.

Yes, of course, because It's not like everyone else had already selected their seats before he sat down. And it’s not like they hadn’t all sat in the exact same seats for every meal they shared at Bobby’s all this week. What an excellent argument he has.

“Dean.” Castiel crosses his arms, using the gesture to both hug himself for comfort while confronting his best friend, and to try and look sterner. “I’m not dumb. Nor am I blind.”

“Never said you were.”

And yet Castiel still doesn’t feel good about any of this. Questions aren’t working, so he decides to stick to statements. “You’re avoiding me because of what happened last night.”

“Nope.” Dean pops the ‘p’ and shakes his head.

“If you’re embarrassed –”

“I’m _not_ embarrassed!” Dean cuts him off with a scoff and rolls his eyes.

Castiel frowns and stares him down. If Dean isn’t embarrassed, then what is the problem? Why won’t he look at him? Until this conversation, they’ve barely exchanged more than a handful of words all morning. There were no problems between them until – Oh. _Oh God_. Everything was fine until Dean groomed his wings – until he _touched his oil glands_.

That sting in his nose grows worse and Castiel blinks rapidly to fight back against the tears; his throat closing up.

He was _right_. His wings are disgusting. _He _is disgusting.

“I see.” Castiel takes a deep breath that shakes through his lungs and scrapes down his throat. “Don’t - Don’t worry. I understand.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Dean looks at him sharply. For a moment, there’s an unreadable expression on his face, and then it falls into horror. “No, Cas, wait –”

But Castiel steps back again, shaking his head. “I get it. Of course, you – you're – you _touched_ them and – and they’re _gross_ – and –”

“No!” Dean lunges forward and grabs him by the arms to stop him from backing up more. “Cas, _stop_.”

He wishes he could, but it’s getting hard to breathe. His wings can’t get any closer than they are now, pinned as they are under the binder, but Castiel wishes he could draw them in more. He wishes he could press them fully flat against his back until they just disappeared completely.

Dean pulls him in tight against his chest and cups the back of his neck. He guides Castiel’s face into his shoulder until every breath is nothing but _Dean. _And then he does the unthinkable. Castiel actually _gasps_ when Dean shoves his hands up the back of his t-shirt, working them under his feathers and the binder until they’re pushing deep into the down surrounding the base of his wings.

“Don’t –!” Castiel’s voice is thick with unshed tears and he jerks back on reflex, but Dean holds him firmly. His arms are pinned between them and he could _easily_ push them apart if he really wanted to.

“Listen to me closely, Cas.” Dean’s voice is a low, soothing rumble against his ear. “I am _not_ disgusted by _anything_ to do with you. Not your wings, or your glands, or your strength. Okay?”

And, to make his point, he pushes his fingers deep into the down until he can drag them against his glands. It’s just a light touch, but it still makes Castiel shiver again. He breathes hard against Dean’s throat and bites back an actual _groan_. It feels so weirdly good to have them touched.

Dean’s touch moves between his wings where he awkwardly starts petting the feathers as best as he can. His hands are just as pinned by the binder as his wings are.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” He sighs softly and tilts his head to rest it against Castiel’s. “I’ve been weird and it’s not because of grooming your wings.”

Castiel wishes he could believe that. He says nothing and does nothing more than tremble against Dean and try valiantly not to cry.

After a moment of silence, Dean sighs. He takes a deep breath, chest swelling against Castiel’s arms. “It’s because of what happened _after_.”

It takes a stupidly long amount of time for that to actually _click_ in his brain.

_The shower_.

Castiel goes still, even going so far as to hold his breath. His head is suddenly empty – a buzzing void with nothing but the word _shower_ echoing through it.

His sudden stillness might be the reason why Dean slips his hands free and steps back. If that’s true – who knows? Dean tugs his shirt back into place for him and gives a grim-looking smile. “Me being weird this morning isn’t because of _you_. It’s because of _me_. Please tell me you understand that.

Oh, he understands alright. He understands and he can’t bring himself to even _move_. He’s staring at Dean and he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop doing it. Castiel had tried really hard – most of the night, even – to not think about what Dean might have done in the shower. And, now, here he is all but blatantly saying it.

Dean cups his face and gently squishes his cheeks between his palms. “So, I need you to breathe for me, okay? Just _breathe_.”

Has he not been breathing? That’s a problem.

Castiel nods slowly and takes a slow, deep, breath.

“Good, that’s good.” Dean smiles softly. “Keep it up.”

He nods again and focuses on every breath in and every whoosh out.

Dean drops his hands to rest on his shoulders and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Great. And now we can just – we’ll just move on. I’ll go back to normal and it’ll be like it used to be.” He pats his shoulders once before stepping away completely. “So, don’t think about what happened. Just forget about it, okay?”

Castiel nods, again, because that’s the only thing he can do right now. He highly doubts that he’s going to be able to just _forget_ about any of this like Dean is asking him to do. And he’s _especially_ not going to be able to forget last night. His wings are _still_ shivering from Dean’s touch – both from just now and last night. He can still feel the heat of his hands on the skin of his back and he’s now very much aware of how close they’re standing.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes both of them flinch. Dean reacts first and pats Castiel on the shoulder, using the touch to turn him around. “You go use it first.” He gives him a little shove, as if he needs it to actually get his feet moving – which, truthfully, he does.

Every movement is automatic, but he feels like a twitchy robot as he heads to the bathroom. Sam gives him a bright smile and a pat on the shoulder as they pass each other. “I’m glad that got sorted out.”

Oh God.

Sam _did_ take a strangely long time in the bathroom. Was he listening in? Or did he have his empath antenna on so that he could feel for when their emotions had evened out into something that he was willing to walk in on?

Whatever the case, the question still remains: _did_ things get sorted out? Really?

As far as things stand with Castiel, he absolutely doesn’t think that Dean is grossed out by him or his wings anymore. But he also can’t just _forget_ about it, no matter what Dean says.

How is he supposed to not think about the fact that Dean was turned on – _aroused_! – while grooming his wings? How is he supposed to not think about how Dean had to take a shower afterwards and – And now Castiel realizes that he doesn’t know if it was a cold shower to make it go away, or if Dean actually touched himself while he was locked up in the bathroom for more than twenty minutes.

What if that’s what happened?

Castiel can feel his face heating up and he watches it slowly go pink in the mirror while washing his hands. He has to brace himself against the counter and he hangs his head between his shoulders, counting his breaths to keep them slow as his chest gradually grows tighter and tighter.

Thinking about Dean jerking off in the shower is giving him the same too-hot-for-his-skin, panicky feelings he had on Monday night. Son of a –! And now he’s got thoughts about Dean in panties in his head again after spending a _week_ trying to forget about it.

This is not good. Castiel is meant to get into a car with Dean and Sam in a few minutes. They’re going to be in an enclosed space for _six hours_ and, somehow, he has to get past this enough to _not_ have a mental breakdown before they get home.

A cautious knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts. “Cas, buddy?” Dean knocks again. “You okay in there?”

How long has it been?

Castiel takes a few more deep breaths before straightening his shoulders and putting on a brave face. “Yes, I’m fine.” He opens the door and his hand only shakes a little bit as he does it.

Truthfully, he is very much _not_ fine. But he does his best not to look it.

While Dean takes his time in the bathroom, Castiel puts the cream back in the fridge. Dean can text Bobby to come get it on his own time later. Together, he and Sam head down to the Impala. They leave everything for Dean to lock up. All their luggage has already long been stored in the trunk of the car and the cooler is empty. They’ll be filling it with snacks on their way out of town.

As the garage door opens, Sam turns to Castiel with his head tilted towards the car. “Do you want the front seat?”

He doesn’t even take the time to think about it. Castiel shakes his head and climbs right into the back seat. With a sigh, he rests his forehead on the back of the front bench seat and stares down at his feet. The car rocks slightly as Sam gets into the front passenger seat.

This is not how he thought this week was going to end.

“Did you remember to text Anna and Amara that we’re leaving soon?” Sam, ever the voice of reason, buckles up while talking over his shoulder. “Anna is already messaging the group chat about it.”

“Right. Of course.” Castiel stretches out enough to get his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll do that right now.”

At least it’s something to distract himself with, even if it’s just for a few minutes. And he can look forward to seeing them when he gets home. To his understanding, both Anna and Aunt Amara will be waiting for him at his house when they get back. They’ll be tracking the trip home through text messages and meet him there. Since it’s just barely ten o’clock in the morning, they should be hopefully getting back to _Lawrence_ in the late afternoon – just in time for supper.

Six hours feels like an eternity and he is not looking forward to the long drive. Even if Dean has said that he won’t act weird anymore, the problem is that _Castiel_ feels like the weird one now. He doesn’t want to be, but how is he supposed to act normal while he processes all this? His mind has all but shut down and he’s just – He has no idea what’s going on with himself right now.

Dean joins them a few minutes later. “Ready to get this show on the road?”

Castiel manages a grunt of agreement and avoids meeting Dean’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. There’s a moment of silence before Sam clears his throat. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As they’re pulling past the office, Dean honks the horn. Castiel looks up from his phone and the well wishes in the group chat to see Bobby and Pam standing on the porch. Pam is leaning against the banister and waving excitedly. Bobby, however, gives one short wave and then he turns on his heel and heads back inside.

Sam snorts a laugh, but he rolls down his window to wave through it. Castiel is satisfied with simply waving from where he is in the backseat. He’s not even sure that Pam saw him, given that they turn out of the parking lot and onto the road a moment later.

That marks the beginning of a wholly uneventful drive.

Unlike on the drive out to _Sioux Falls_, Castiel elects to stay in the backseat for the whole ride home. He doesn’t even get out to stretch his legs whenever they stop to fill up the tank, get snacks, or use the bathroom. To make up for it, he stretches across the backseat and takes up as much space as he can manage to keep himself from getting restless or cramped up.

It’s difficult not having anything to drink for the whole drive, but he manages it. Otherwise, he’d need to use the washroom and – And he really doesn’t need to go to such lengths to avoid having to get out of the car and deal with talking to Dean face to face.

Dean, on the other hand, really is keeping to his promise to act normal. He spends the whole drive chatting it up with Sam, asking Castiel the occasional question – to which he _does_ answer, and sings along to his music. Every now and then they have long stretches of road where they drive in peace with nothing but the radio filling the silence.

It _feels _like everything should be normal, but Castiel can still feel a tingle at the base of his wings. He can still feel the phantom touch of Dean’s fingers against his glands and his skin. His wings didn’t need preening, and yet Dean touched the oil glands anyway. He did it just to prove that he doesn’t mind them – and that’s not something even Castiel can do. It literally turns his stomach to even _try_ and touch them outside of when it’s absolutely necessary.

And Dean did it because he _likes_ Castiel.

God, it’s about all that Castiel can think about for the entire drive home.

He tries sleeping, but his brain never actually shuts off. It’s hard to sleep when the person you can’t stop thinking about is only a few feet away. Castiel is too aware of him for the whole drive. It’s distracting and he can’t even focus enough to read as a distraction. If he has a book in hand, he just reads the same line over and over again.

When they pull off the highway and into the long drive to his front door, something wound tight in his chest finally lets go. Castiel breathes a sigh of relief that he feels right down into his _toes_, and his smile is genuine when he sees his aunt’s car parked around the front bend. It’s where she always parks, and it leaves the space in front of the garage door open for Dean to park – right where _he_ always does.

Castiel is barely out of the car before Anna has blinked into place right in front of him. She crashes into his chest and hugs him tight; automatically being careful of his wings from years of being almost overly aware of them. “You’re _back_!”

“It’s been a week, Anna.” He pats her hair, trying not to be too emotional.

“It’s been a week and I missed you.” She purposefully steps on his foot while keeping her face firmly pressed against his chest. “Now shut up and hug me back.”

He can’t help but smile as he squishes her in an equally tight hug. “I missed you too.”

Anna tilts her face up with a cheeky grin. “Mom made dinner and I haven’t been allowed to eat yet. It’s not _fair_.” There’s a whiny lilt to her voice that he knows she’s playing up; trying to be cute.

“I’m sure we’re all hungry.” Castiel pats her head again and carefully extracts himself out of her hug. “Let’s bring our things inside and have something to eat.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Dean’s voice at his shoulder reminds him that they’re not alone, and it surprises him more than it should.

With a laugh, Anna ducks around Castiel to hug first Dean, then Sam. “Don’t feel left out, boys. I missed you both too!”

“Did we doubt that at any time, Dean?” Sam grins and squeezes her around the shoulders.

“No, Sam, I don’t think we did.” He makes an effort to ruffle her hair, but Anna vanishes from between them only to blink back into view at the back of the car. “Oh, I see how it is.”

She sticks her tongue at him before rapping her knuckles sharply on the top of the trunk. “Come unlock this beast so we can get the bags inside and get _fed_.”

Dean makes a face at the fact that she hit his car, but does as he’s told. They bring the bags and cooler inside to find Aunt Amara waiting at the top of the stairs. She has her arms crossed and she taps her foot until Castiel is within reach to gather him up in her arms

“Welcome home, kiddo.” She kisses him noisily on the cheek. “I kept everything alive. Plants _and_ Anna.”

“Thank you, Auntie.” He leans into her hug and rests his cheek on her shoulder. She smells like cocoa butter and home.

Actually, his home smells a bit like burnt onions. Castiel sniffs at the air and raises an eyebrow at her. Before he can even ask about things, she slaps at his shoulder and stomps off back to the kitchen. “Don’t you say a _word_.”

Anna snorts behind him and whispers almost directly into his ear. “She got distracted watching _Toddlers and Tiaras_. I only _just_ got her to stop ranting about what a horrible show it is, so don’t bring it up again.”

He puts a finger to his lips and nods.

Despite the burnt onion smell, this is home and there’s just something to the air here that calms him immediately. Castiel feels so much better just being here. Yes, there’s still a hearty thrum of anxiety buzzing away at the back of his mind, refusing to let him forget about what happened with Dean, but it’s not overpowering his every thought right now. No, if anything, it’s going to keep him up tonight too. It’s just nice to be back somewhere safe and familiar; someplace where he doesn’t need to worry about other people being around.

“Come have dinner, you guys!” Aunt Amara is almost drowned out by the clatter of dishes. “I want you to tell me _everything_ about your trip.”

“We already did.” Dean brushes past Castiel with the cooler in his hands. He carries it into the kitchen to start putting away the cool things in the fridge for the night. “Wasn’t that the whole point of the group chat and everything?”

Anna glances up at Sam as he comes up the stairs with the bags. “Have I mentioned how good the blue looks?” She reaches up to fluff with the pieces curling under Sam’s ears. “I like it.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, please no. I shower twice a day to try and wash it out sooner, but it’s still holding on.”

“It shows more on Dean.” Aunt Amara grins when he groans out loud at her comment. “And you, Castiel.” She gives him a critical eye when he joins her to plate things. “It looks good on you.”

Dean grumbles quietly at the way Castiel blushes. “As if the scars aren’t enough to get people staring, I had to go and add _blue hair_ on top of it.”

Sam is still in the living room while he adds to the conversation. “You should have seen some of the stares we got at the gas stations when both of us went inside.”

“Can you imagine if Cas would have gone in with us?” Dean shakes his head. “That kind of attention would have made you run screaming, Cas.”

“I don’t _scream_, thank you.” Castiel turns his nose up at that, before pausing in the process of pulling cutlery from the drawer. “Oh, but that does remind me.”

It’s been six hours and he hasn’t used the bathroom. Even though he hasn’t had anything to drink in that time, he should probably still go. He uses it as an excuse to bring his luggage to his bedroom, though he does duck into his office to leave the smaller suitcase there. While in his bedroom, he takes the chance to change to an altered shirt and finally stretch his wings.

Even though he’s still very hung up on last night _and_ this morning, Castiel perseveres through a rather nice dinner. Aunt Amara apparently didn’t use the burnt onions and dinner is surprisingly delicious.

“That’s because it’s all boxed.” Anna points out when he comments on it. “You think either of us knows how to stuff chicken with ham and cheese and then bread it so it looks this nice?” She holds up her plate. “Heck no!”

Aunt Amara frowns and makes a show of taking the gravy boat away. “But I did peel and mash all those potatoes myself! And I mixed the gravy from the package _without_ getting any clumps.”

Sometimes they don’t give Aunt Amara enough credit. She’s not _that_ terrible of a cook. When she puts her mind to it, she can make an excellent meal. Otherwise, she either doesn’t have the time or the energy to do much more than boxed meals.

Anna still manages to get her hands on the gravy at some point during the meal. Castiel suspects that Sam slipped it to her. Aunt Amara doesn’t comment on it, so neither does he. Dean looks like he might, but Anna distracts him with conversation. It’s a loud, boisterous dinner, and it’s so _different_ from the ones he’s had all week with Pam and Bobby. Pam laughs a lot, but Castiel never relaxed fully around her – and certainly not around Bobby.

It would be nice to just go and relax alone in his bedroom for a while, but Castiel finds himself curled on his side on the recliner after dinner. He would rather be alone right now, but he has to entertain his guests like a good host. Aunt Amara and Anna don’t seem to be leaving any time soon as they both make themselves comfortable.

Anna takes one side of the couch and Dean the other; stretching out to take up most of the space. Sam sits cross-legged at the coffee table with his back to the TV and his laptop in front of him. From where Castiel is sitting, he has a full view of the screen and he watches as Sam starts looking for hunting jobs. Aunt Amara makes herself a cup of coffee and curls up in the armchair by the window.

At any other time, Castiel would love having this group of people together. He’s just – God, he’s so _tired_. Mentally and physically. Last night wasn’t restful_ at all_ and he’s exhausted just sitting here, watching everyone catch up. He’ll answer when spoken to, but otherwise leaves all the chatting to the Winchesters. Dean is good at talking and the rumble of his voice is strangely soothing.

Despite last night and their rocky morning, this feels like it should be any normal night. There’s nothing outwardly different about the way they’re hanging out and talking. Castiel is the one who is more withdrawn. He’s stuck in his own head, unable to focus on anything other than why his feathers are so ruffled over last night and this morning, and the panty-induced panic from Monday. Even with a busy week, he most certainly hasn’t forgotten about _that_.

When his eyes start drooping, completely of their own accord, he doesn’t think anyone will notice. It would be nice to just drift off to the quiet conversation. But then Dean clears his throat a little too loudly and Castiel blinks awake, if only to frown at him.

“Y’know, I think it’s time we turn in.” Dean sits up and stretches his arms above his head. Castiel looks away for fear of being caught staring. “It’s been a long drive and a longer day.”

Anna perks up and she looks hopefully between Aunt Amara and Castiel. “Can we have a sleepover?”

“There’s not enough beds for us to stay over.” Aunt Amara shakes her head before tipping back her mug to down the last of her coffee. “We should head home. You can come visit the boys again tomorrow.”

“But Dean could share Cas’s bed again!” A pout is definitely forming on Anna’s lips and Castiel closes his eyes so he can’t see it. He’s always been particularly weak to her kicked-puppy look. “Or I could!”

There’s a moment of silence where he honestly thinks that his aunt is considering the options. But then Aunt Amara sighs and the chair creaks with the sounds of her getting up. “Let the poor boy have his own bed for a night. We’re heading out, sweetie. Let’s go.”

Castiel doesn’t audibly breathe a sigh of relief, but he definitely relaxes a little more. As much as he loves Anna, he really does want to be alone tonight. If she stayed over, let alone shared his bed, then they would probably stay up into the wee hours of the morning talking. And this is _not_ something that he wants to talk about. Not yet.

God forbid that she stayed over and they chose to have Dean share his bed again. That’s not even an option Castiel wants to consider. He’ll never be able to think clearly as long as Dean’s here. Tomorrow is an eternity yawning before him and he already doesn’t know how he’s going to make it until they leave on Monday either for a hunt or to try following their dad again.

Anna is still pouting as he sees his family off. Castiel still kisses them both on the cheek and makes sleepy promises to talk to them both again tomorrow.

By the time he makes it back up the stairs, one of the Winchesters has already fetched the sheets and blanket from the linen closet. Now it’s up to them to figure out who will be sleeping on the couch. They’re in the midst of a fairly intense match of rock-paper-scissors to determine who has the luck of getting the spare room.

Part of Castiel does feel a little bad that he could technically be offering them both a bed by sharing with Dean again, or, heck, he could even offer to let _Sam_ sleep with him. But he wants to be selfish for just one night.

It would be rude to head to bed without telling them, so Castiel pauses before shutting his bedroom door completely and shouts down the hall; “Goodnight.”

“Wait, Cas!” Dean breaks away from Sam and jogs up the hall to him.

Castiel has the door to his bedroom mostly closed at that point. He opens it just enough that they can talk, but not enough to make it look like an invitation for Dean to come in too. They are in desperate need of some _boundaries_ right now.

Dean steps close to the door, but he makes no move to touch it or Castiel. His expression is oddly serious, if not a little worried. “Are things okay?”

“Things are fine, Dean.” And it’s not even a complete lie.

Unfortunately, Dean doesn’t look very convinced. He frowns and glances back the way he came. “Sam had his senses open all day, and he said there’s been something _off_ with you.”

Ugh, Castiel had been hoping that _wouldn’t_ be the case. He also doesn’t really like the idea of Sam listening in on his emotions. After how things went last night, he shouldn’t be surprised by this, but he doesn’t have to be _happy_ about it.

Just in case Sam still has his empathy open, Castiel makes sure to feel _very_ annoyed.

He sighs and tries to give Dean a reassuring smile. “I said it’s _fine_, Dean. I had a good time this week and I’m happy to be home. Now I’m tired and I have a lot to think about.”

That seems to have the opposite effect he was hoping for. Dean’s whole expression closes off and his lips press into a thin line. “Oh.”

Did he really think that things were completely okay between them after the conversation this morning? Castiel almost feels bad for ruining that for him. Knowing Dean and how _he_ has the tendency to think things over a lot too, he’s probably going to stay up late tossing and turning over all of this too.

Dean breathes out heavily through his nose and his shoulders sag slightly. “Well, uh, then I’ll leave you to do all your thinking.”

He turns away, but the sad slope of his shoulders causes an ache behind Castiel’s ribs. Before he realizes it, he reaches out to catch Dean’s hand before he can actually walk away. He doesn’t look back, but he stops in place.

“I _did_ have a good time, Dean.” Castiel looks down at their hands and tries not to think too much about how hot Dean’s skin is. “Thank you for letting me go with you.” He squeezes his hand gently. “And – and things are fine between us, right?”

His shoulders relax in slow increments until he finally looks back at Castiel with a soft, though tired, smile. “Yeah, Cas.” Dean returns the hand-squeeze. “We’re good.” He pauses and glances down the hall again. When he looks back, he drops his voice into a whisper. “And – uh – I’m here, y’know? If you ever need to talk about whatever it is that you’re going to be thinking about.”

There’s a hopeful edge to his words, and a little light in his eyes. Castiel melts a little even while he hates that look. He _wants_ to make Dean happy, but he’s – Well, he’s just not sure if he can do that in the way he thinks Dean hopes he will.

“I’ll consider it.” Castiel tilts a smile at him and drops his hand after one last squeeze.

Dean walks a little taller back down the hallway, clearly happy with that answer. Castiel tries to ignore the twinge of guilt in his belly as he shuts the door and rests his forehead against it. He breathes in and out slowly, unconsciously counting each breath even though he doesn’t feel all that panicky or anxious at the moment.

It’s nicer than he cares to admit to crawl back into his own bed. He burrows into the pillow and breathes deep the smell of _home_. Some small part of him misses having bedding that smells like Dean, but he sternly ignores that small part and focuses on trying to get his damn brain to turn off and let him actually _sleep_ without spending too much time thinking about Dean. He would _really_ like to get at least some kind of rest tonight.

Castiel takes a while to drift off slowly, listening to the sounds of the Winchesters getting settled in their respective places. His thoughts sluggishly shuffling through thinking about how much he enjoys spending time with Dean. When the Winchesters aren’t here, he misses them both dearly and maybe he wouldn’t mind too much if they were here much more often.

And that thing on Monday? He knows he was _jealous_ of Dean’s ex. Castiel never thought he would be the jealous type, and yet... Or would he be considered envious? She got to see a side of Dean he’s never even glimpsed before and has pictures of him that Castiel will never see. But the question is, does he _like _the idea of Dean in panties? Does he want to see that?

Behind closed eyes, an image of Dean takes shape. He’s kneeling on the bed, naked except for the lacey, satiny panties stretched tight over his ass. The Dean in his head isn’t coy or embarrassed about his scars not being covered up. He’s grinning and wanton; knows he’s sexy and –

Castiel’s eyes pop open, the image dissolving into the darkness of his bedroom.

Did he just think Dean is _sexy_?

Oh God, he _did_.

He groans and turns his face into the pillow. Well, that solves that, doesn’t it? Castiel _does_ like the idea of Dean in panties, and he absolutely _would_ like to see it for himself. More than that, he wants to see Dean smiling all the time, and hear him laugh. He wants to make sure that Dean _never_ feels bad about the scars he hides all the time and is comfortable with being shirtless even when the lights are on. Castiel wants to know everything about Dean; all his stories; his past and his future. He wants to be ridiculously selfish and have Dean around all the time.

Once he figures that out, he falls asleep rather easily. Which is great, because he went to bed worried that he would spend _hours_ analyzing that weird, tense feeling he got in his belly every time he and Dean went to bed together this last week. Or that he would be up until the sun rises, thinking about that nice, warm feeling that fills his chest whenever they’re together.

Those are entirely different compared to the feeling he gets when Sam is around. They’re like two sides of the same coin. Castiel clearly cares for Sam, but he doesn’t inspire the same swooping feeling in his stomach like Dean does. He doesn’t think about leaning into Sam’s side like he sometimes wants to do with Dean when they’re watching TV together. And Sam has never given even a _bit_ of a hint that he would like to rest his head in Castiel’s lap during movies.

Looking back, it’s almost like Dean conditioned him into thinking about him differently than how he thinks of Sam. And the worst thing is that it _worked_. His friendship with Dean is miles different from his friendship with Sam.

Now he knows why and it is _such_ a relief to have figured that out.

* * *

** _Sunday – August 29th, 2018_ **

Castiel feels infinitely lighter when he wakes up in the morning. Proof is in the fact that he woke up early _on his own_. He stretches as he sits up; wings arching across the bed as he curves his spine and raises his arms above his head. There are a few pops and _oh_, that felt good.

The scent of coffee and breakfast is in the air and he expects that someone is going to come to wake him up soon. Castiel spends the time between then and the knock on his door getting ready. He freshens up and puts on an altered t-shirt, though he keeps his pajama pants on because they’re comfortable and he likes the Grumpy Cat pattern.

Dean actually jumps in surprise when Castiel opens the door before he’s even finished knocking. He looks him up and down; eyebrows nearly at his hairline. “You’re awake.”

“I had a good sleep.” Castiel shrugs and steps out into the hall, forcing Dean to step back too. “How was your night?”

“Uh – good?”

He appears to be dumbfounded that Castiel got up on his own. It’s not _that_ strange, is it? Castiel is a grown adult, after all.

Dean follows him down to the kitchen, where a cup of coffee has already been prepared for him and omelettes are already plated, ready to be taken to the dining table. Sam looks fairly put together himself, and Castiel frowns when he notices that both Winchesters are fully dressed. They always have breakfast in their pajamas.

His suspicions are confirmed when he takes breakfast into the dining room and takes note of the two duffle bags at the top of the stairs and the conspicuous absence of the bedding for the couch. They always stack it on the armchair by the window when they’re staying for multiple nights.

“Are you going somewhere?”

Sam shares a look with Dean as they take their seats. “Actually, yes.”

Castiel tries not to feel disappointed by that. “I thought you were leaving tomorrow.”

“We were planning on it, but we found a job.” Dean shrugs and tucks into his breakfast, as if changing plans like this is no big deal. “It’s close, but time sensitive, so we need to leave today to get to it.”

“Oh, okay.” He slumps in his seat a bit; his good mood spoiled slightly. Now that he’s sorted things out in his own head, he had hoped to have a good day with his friends. “I understand.”

Sam swallows a bite of his breakfast and reaches out to pat Castiel on the shoulder. “It was a nice week, Cas. Maybe next time, you could actually come on a hunt with us.”

“You could come with, but I won’t let you _actually_ hunt.” Dean shakes his head. “That’s a whole hell of a lot of liability having a civilian without credentials even being on the scene; whether you leave the car or not.” He holds up his hand when Castiel opens his mouth. “Super strength or not, the people we hunt have weapons and don’t mind hurting someone. This is our _job_ to deal with them and I’m not going to be responsible for you getting hurt.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You’d be hard pressed getting me out of the car to start with.”

If anything, he’d like at least _one_ more training session in Sioux Falls. After his disastrous first run of the obstacle course, it’s obvious that he shouldn’t be out on the actual field. Castiel wouldn’t even consider going on a hunt with them until he can run the course without falling on his face. And it wouldn’t hurt to get better with the gun too.

“Well, of course we’d get Bobby’s permission first.” Sam nods, more to himself than to anyone else. “You wouldn’t need a _full_ certification to just come along with us. There’s plenty of bounty hunters who bring family with them on the road.”

Dean seems unconvinced, but Castiel would rather not argue about this in the last hour they get to spend together for who-knows-how-long. It could be a few weeks before he sees the Winchesters again, or it could be more than a month. It’s hard to predict how their hunts go and how many they’re going to do in a row. They make their mind up as they go along.

All the talk about Castiel going with them is pure speculation, but it’s a nice idea. It passes the time surprisingly quickly and before he knows it, they’re outside and packing things away in the Impala.

Sam hugs him before he gets in the car. It’s a fairly normal goodbye with him. Dean, on the other hand, is fidgeting at the driver’s side door. He looks like he wants to say something, but at the same time like he wants to run away.

Castiel knows how to fix that easily enough. He feels oddly calm as he opens his arms. Dean looks surprised for all of a moment before he’s sliding forward and sinking into the hug. He tucks his face into Castiel’s shoulder with a sight.

“I’m sorry I fucked things up.”

The apology is a quiet mumble mostly lost to his shoulder, but Castiel still hears it just fine. He tilts his head against Dean’s and folds his wings around him. “I told you. It’s fine.”

Dean shivers against him and presses a little bit closer. He sighs heavily. “I wish I could believe that.”

When they pull apart, Castiel makes sure to linger long enough to press his cheek to Dean’s. It’s meant both as a comfort and – and what? That question stumps him as he steps away. Dean is wide eyed and open mouthed after their hug.

He blinks several times and brings a hand to his cheek. “I –”

“Drive safe, and hunt safe.” Castiel takes another few steps back and crosses his arms. He was so confident about things earlier and now he’s suddenly unsure again. “I’ll talk with you more later.”

Dean nods, though somewhat absently. It’s almost like he has stars in his eyes as he gets into the car. It takes longer than usual for him to start the engine, but he seems to have returned to normal by the time they’re reversing out of the parking spot. Castiel backs up to the side of the house and he waves as they drive forward, around the bend and – eventually – out of sight. He stays where he is in the sunlight, breathing in the crisp August air and listening to the rumble of the Impala’s engine fade.

Castiel brings a hand up and gently touches his lips. He thought acknowledging that he thinks Dean is sexy would have been enough, but apparently that’s not the case. His face is practically _glowing_ with heat as he realizes that he very nearly kissed Dean goodbye.

Oh. _Oh. _

He doesn’t _just_ find Dean sexy.

He’s _attracted_ to him.

He _likes_ him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Sunday – August 29th, 2018_ **

Even though they just ate lunch, Castiel can’t even remember what Anna had made for him. He’s only aware that his whole world has been turned on its head with the revelation he had this morning. Anna is sitting next to him, having come over to have lunch with him, and they’ve been sitting out on the deck in the sunlight since they finished eating. She even went to the effort of making them a nice pitcher of iced tea to enjoy.

“So, Cas.” Anna tucks her legs up under her and looks at him. “Anything happen on your trip that you couldn’t tell me while they were here?”

Damn her intuition, because it is _spot on_ as usual.

Castiel sighs and looks out over the gardens, pleased to note that they look just fine. He might as well jump into the confessions head first, because beating around the bush is not something enjoys doing, no matter the situation. That said, he does buy himself a minute by chugging the remains of his drink and pouring himself a new glass.

With one more sigh, he slumps back against the pillow nestled between his wings. “I had to preen on Friday night, and Dean helped me.”

Anna goes very still before sitting forward sharply. “_Excuse_ me?” She puts her drink down on the little table between them so she can scoot her chair around it and face him more. “What was that? You let him help you clean your wings? You haven’t even let _me_ help you!”

He can’t tell if she’s insulted by this or not, but Castiel chooses not to address it. “I wasn’t able to do it on my own, so it was a necessary evil.” He rolls his shoulder again and winces at the twinge. It’s still a little sore, but not as bad as it had been the other night.

The wince gets him a curious look and Castiel shrugs the other shoulder. “I hurt it when I fell off the obstacle course. The fall is also the reason one of my glands started leaking, and – Well, I hadn’t preened in a long time, so it was due. Dean had to do my right wing because I couldn’t reach back to get at the gland to do it.”

She sits back with an impressed whistle. “Wow. I can’t believe you let him touch your glands.”

At least she appreciates what a momentous occasion that was. _No one_ has helped him preen before. His parents had offered, especially when he would get physically sick in the beginning while trying to do it himself, but Castiel always refused. The last thing he wanted was for his parents – the only two people in the world that he spent time with – to be as disgusted with his wings as he is.

“I didn’t _want_ him to touch them. I _had_ to.” He rubs a hand over his face. “And –” Castiel cuts himself off and looks away.

Should he tell her?

But Anna is already leaning forward again, eyes bright. “There’s _more_?” She must be starved for drama and gossip to be this interested.

Castiel shifts uncomfortably in his seat and looks in every direction _except_ at her. “It – uh –” He gestures vaguely with one hand. “Preening my wings made him – He was –” God, it’s so hard to put it into actual _words_. Instead, he gives Anna an imploring look, hoping she’ll figure it out on her own.

For a moment, all she does is stare at him, and then her jaw drops with a gasp. “_No_.” She covers her mouth and sits back. “No way! Dean got _turned on_ while preening you wings?”

Oh God. It’s no less embarrassing for him with someone else saying it. Castiel can feel his face grow hot and he looks away. That won’t hide the blush, but at least he doesn’t have to see her _looking_ at him with those sharp eyes that feel like they know everything.

Anna makes a thoughtful sound and the chair creaks as she gets comfortable. “Is that why you guys were so weird yesterday?”

He looks at her sharply, eyes narrowed. “We weren’t _weird_.” Were they? No, no. Castiel was just socially exhausted and needed time alone. There was nothing odd about that.

“You sat on the chair, Cas.” She gives him the kind of look that practically _screams_ that he’s being an idiot. “You haven’t not shared the couch with Dean all year.”

Castiel huffs and crosses his arms. “We _weren’t_ weird.”

“You totally were!” Anna fishes an ice cube out of her glass and throws it at him. It bounces off his shoulder. A moment later, she’s grinning wickedly and raising both eyebrows at him. “Were you guys being weird because you had sex?”

Because they _what_?

The question catches him so off guard that Castiel flounders for a good few minutes, gaping at her until he manages to stammer out an answer. “What are – Why would – How did you – _No_! No, we absolutely did _not _have sex!”

“Oh.” She actually has the gall to look disappointed by that and she slumps in her chair.

And now the idea of having sex with Dean is in his _head_ again and Castiel had only _just_ stopped thinking about that. He shakes his head and clutches his iced tea between his hands for lack of anything better to do with them. “Dean got hard while touching my wings and he took a long shower afterwards. I slept on the couch and we didn’t speak again until the morning. We definitely _did not _have sex.”

“Ugh, that’s _boring_.” Anna rolls her eyes and props her chin up on her hand, elbow on the arm rest of the chair. “You totally blue-balled him.”

It’s like she’s _trying_ to break his brain.

Castiel rubs a damp hand, from the condensation on his glass, over his face. The cool water is a sharp contrast to his blush. “To be fair, I don’t exactly know what he did while he was in the shower. It could have been a cold shower, for all I know. We didn’t really talk about it.” Though he does have some fairly strong suspicions about it.

“No wonder you guys were so weird yesterday.” Anna blows some stray hairs that have come loose from her bun out of her face.

“_We weren’t weird_!”

She looks unconvinced, but doesn’t push the point further. “So, what now?”

He wilts at the question; frowning. “Huh?”

“Well, you know Dean has the hots for you, right? So, what now?” Anna readjusts how she’s sitting; crossing her legs and resting her elbows on either knee with her chin still propped in her hands. “This is seriously the most exciting thing to happen to you since they came into our lives. What are you guys going to do now?”

Castiel is at a loss for words. He opens and closes his mouth a few time before shrugging. “Nothing?” He curls his wings in and looks away from her curious eyes. “Dean said we were just going to forget about it and move on with our lives. We’re going to act like it never happened.” Even though he’s _positive_ that he’s not going to be able to do that.

Anna makes a wounded noise and covers her face. “Oh my _God_. Why are boys so _dumb_?”

He should probably be insulted by that, but Castiel agrees a little with her. They _are_ dumb, but he still doesn’t like being called that. “I’m not dumb.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am _not_.”

“Are too!”

“Are not.”

“Are _too_.”

“Are _not_!”

It’s been a long time since they were _this_ childish with each other. Castiel can feel himself getting worked up over it and he puts an end to this by slumping in his chair again. “I’m not dumb. I’m –” He looks away and twists his glass between his palms.

After several minutes of silence, Anna reaches out and puts a hand on his wrist. “You’re scared.”

He can’t look at her or the soft way she’s looking at him. It was a rough morning before she arrived and Castiel has barely admitted this to _himself_, but – This needs to be done. If he’s going to talk to anyone about this, it would be Anna.

Castiel bites his lip and focuses on the soft warmth of her hand. “I like him.”

“And he likes you.” She squeezes his wrist gently. “He’s been pretty obvious about it since the day I met him. Why do you think I backed off so quickly?”

Oh, that’s right. Anna did flirt with him, didn’t she? “Did you like him too?”

Anna shrugs and sits back again. “Sort of, I guess. I mean, he was a nice guy with a _banging _body and nice face. I totally wanted to hit that.” She sighs wistfully and tilts her face into the sun. “Now I just like him as a friend.”

Ew. That bubble black feeling of jealousy fills his stomach again and Castiel does _not_ like it. He wrinkles his nose both at the feeling and at the idea of Dean and Anna together. There are multiple reasons why he doesn’t like the thought of it, and he shakes his head to rid himself of both that and hopefully the weirdly jealous feeling. It’s not like anything actually _happened_ between them. What is there for him to be _jealous_ about?

He needs something to distract himself and blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “I almost kissed him this morning.”

That seems to get her attention. Anna is mid-sip of her iced tea and she chokes on it briefly; sitting forward and coughing into her fist. Eventually, she clears her throat and looks at him. “I’m sorry. _What_ did you just say?”

Castiel wraps his arms around himself. “Don’t tell him. Please.” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the panic he can feel rising in his chest. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to tell him.” God, he feels queasy just thinking about it.

If he says something about it, that means things between them will _change_. But Castiel _likes_ their friendship. What if a relationship doesn’t work out? What if they’re not compatible physically and that ends up being a deal breaker for Dean? Castiel could end up losing one of the only two friends he has. But Dean and Sam are basically a package deal. If Dean stops coming, then Sam probably will too, and then Castiel will be alone again. And that – God, he doesn’t think he can go back to that. He already misses them _so much_ when they’re away.

Anna puts a hand on his arm again, squeezing lightly. “I won’t say anything. Promise.”

That may be what she says, but when Castiel looks up to give her a grateful smile, it’s to find that she has her phone in her other hand and she’s already tapping at it. He leans forward, squinting to try and see what she’s typing. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

Oh no. “Are you _texting_ him?”

She shakes her head. “No, of course not.”

He reaches for her phone. “Then show me what you’re doing.”

Anna leans back and away. “I’m just playing _Pokémon Go_.”

Bullshit! “Nothing spawns out here.” He should know. He wanted to play the game but deleted it after a day because he didn’t get a single spawn out here.

“They released a new update that changed that.” She flaps her hand at him.

“You’re lying.” Castiel sits forward. “Show me your phone.”

“I’m definitely telling you the truth.” But she’s still not looking at him, and then her phone buzzes loudly in her hand. Anna’s eyebrows are suddenly touching her hairline and she grins widely. “Oh-ho-_ho_!”

That is _it_. Castiel is on his feet and snatching the phone from her hand before she can react. He turns his back to her and flares his wings to keep her from reaching it.

She gasps, but suspiciously doesn’t get out of her chair. “Hey, that’s my personal private property!”

He ignores her and reads through the message exchange.

** _So…_ **

** _Wings do it for you, huh?_ **

** _Was it the feathers, or…?_ ** _  
Read: 12:32pm_

_No, it was because it was Cas._

_Cas who kept making !!!NOISES!!!_

_…_

_The wings were a bonus._

Castiel flushes and turns to throw the phone into her lap. “I can’t _believe_ you actually asked him!”

“I can’t believe he answered me without having to fight him about it.” Anna picks up her phone and frowns down at the screen. “I was expecting to have to needle him for a few hours.”

Huffing, as if she’s disappointed, she starts typing a few things. A moment later, her phone buzzes again and her smile is back. “Oh, no wonder! It’s Sam answering. Dean is driving.”

“Oh my _God_.” Castiel covers his face with both hands and sinks back into his chair with a groan. “How in the world does _he _know?”

Anna takes a moment to type and waits patiently for an answer. When he phone buzzes again, she gives him the gist of the message. “Apparently it’s because Dean has been ranting about it for half of the morning.” She hums an amused note. “I always did wonder how much they talk about things.”

This is too much.

Castiel stands up again. “I’m going to bed.”

“What?” She looks up from her phone with a frown. “It’s not even one o’clock in the afternoon.”

“A perfect time.” He shrugs, picks up the pillow from his chair, and heads inside.

True to form, Anna doesn’t leave him alone. She blinks into place next to him in the kitchen, and it’s a testament to how distracted he is that he doesn’t react. Anna laughs and follows him through the house. “C’mon, Castiel! It’s fine!”

“Nope.” He shakes his head and goes the long way through the kitchen so he can toss the pillow onto the couch. “I’m done for the day. Go home.”

Laughter follows him past the stairs and down the hall. Castiel briefly considers something himself once he gets to his bedroom, because what better option is there? Things are _weird_ with Dean, Anna knows and is going to tease him forever, and now Sam _definitely_ knows what happened. The only thing that Dean and Sam _don’t_ know is that Castiel is attracted to his best friend, is aware that his best friend is attracted to him, and is to goddamn _terrified_ that anything could come of it.

All he wants to do is crawl under a rock and never think about anything every again.

And that’s when it hits him.

Just because _Castiel_ won’t say anything to Dean about it, doesn’t mean that _Anna _won’t.

He stops in the middle of the hall and spins around to face her. It’s so sudden that Anna walks right into his chest with an _oomph_. Castiel grabs her by the shoulders and holds her at arm’s length so she can get the full effect of his glare.

“Don’t you _dare_ say a word about what I told you.” When he opens her mouth, he gives her a little shake. “I mean it! If you tell either of them about my feelings for Dean, you are _banished_. It will be _at least_ a year before I even talk to you again.” Castiel puts every ounce of seriousness into his words as he can get. “Tell me you understand.”

Anna pales slightly, but at least she nods. “I understand.”

“Good.” He lets her go and turns away again. “Now I’m going to go take a bath.”

“I thought you were going to bed?”

Castiel shoots her a glare over his shoulder as he pulls a few towels out of the linen closet. She backs up with her hands held up. “Okay. Okay! I’ll clean up lunch. You go have your – uh – _bath_.”

“Thank you.” He gives her one last nod before he locks himself in the bathroom.

With a loud sigh, Castiel braces himself against the vanity and stares his reflection down. His dark hair is vaguely blue and the longer he stares at it, the more he remembers what it felt like to have Dean’s fingers working the dye into his hair. A shiver runs down his spine and he drops his gaze, teeth catching in his bottom lip. If he closes his eyes, his scalp tingles as if those fingers were scraping over it again, like when Dean was washing it out for him.

It felt strangely good and Castiel can’t help thinking back to how he had to keep his wings tucked tight against his back. The feathers were shivering too much and it was so hard to keep them still while his head was under the tap. He never knew his scalp felt so good, but he hasn’t been able to recreate those shivers by running his own fingers through his hair.

Castiel’s wings rustle against his back and he shakes his head, hoping to shake off the goosebumps that spread across his whole body just thinking about it. He drags a hand through his hair, nails scraping at his scalp, and some small part of him wishes that it was Dean’s fingers.

As soon as that thought enters his head, heat floods through his body. He licks his lips and automatically thinks about how close he was to kissing Dean this morning. And, of course, thinking about that makes his cheek feel hot where he pressed them together.

This riot of feelings is making his belly pull tight and Castiel immediately recognizes that signal – even with it being a while since he did it. He glares down at the loose front of his sweats and what’s hiding beneath it. “Don’t you _dare_.”

The last thing he needs is to start getting turned on by Dean. He’s going to fight _very hard_ against that, because adding the _sexual_ component to his attraction is just going to – No. God no. He doesn’t need this to cause him any more problems.

* * *

** _Tuesday – September 18th, 2018_ **

“Seriously, Garth is the best.” Anna stretches out in the hammock that her and Aunt Amara have long since bought for themselves. “I’m in my twenties and he still gives me a lollipop after every cleaning.”

Castiel is stretched out on a lounge chair on his stomach, enjoying the heat of the sun on his spread wings. They’ve been feeling a bit agitated and itchy today and he hates to think about what that means. Does his body not know what today is? How can his damned wings start the second worst time of the year on his _birthday_?

“Isn’t it a little backwards to give you a sugary treat after having your teeth cleaned?”

Anna shrugs and grabs the edges of the hammock to fold it over herself, almost hiding in it. “I guess? He makes me promise not to eat it for at least half an hour after the cleaning, and he still gives me the toothbrush and floss stuff.” She peeks out between the folds. “Garth is great, but he’s also a hugger and I don’t know how much I like having my mom’s boss hug me.”

“You get used to it.” Aunt Amara’s voice joins the conversation from above them, where she’s currently manning the barbecue on the deck. She has an almost absurd number of burgers to cook and Castiel might have to speak with her about how fond she is of leftovers, because they definitely don’t need _that_ many burgers today.

He muffles a yawn in the crook of his arm. “Doesn’t hugging patients and employees count as sexual harassment if it’s unwanted?”

“In most places, yes.” Her shadow leans over the edge of the balcony and Castiel turns his head to look up at her. “But Garth warns you that he’s a hugger. It’s one of the first things he says when he hires someone or meets new patients. Anyone who doesn’t like it can just tell him and he won’t do it.” She smiles down at them. “He’s just a sweet kid.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Kid?”

“He’s younger than mom.”

“Oh.” He pushes himself up until he can sit with his legs crossed. “Have you ever thought about being a dentist instead of an assistant?”

Aunt Amara shakes her head and sips at her wine. “It’s too much work. I like where I am, and you’re lucky that he allows me to make teeth cleaning house calls for my shut-in of a nephew.” She pauses and looks down at him, curious. “When was the last time I looked at your mouth?”

Ugh. Castiel wrinkles his nose and purposefully looks to Anna instead. “So, what did you get for me?”

Anna laughs and throws back the folds of the hammock. She checks her phone, presumably looking at the clock. “It’s not present time yet.”

“Saturday.” Aunt Amara announces. “I’ll bring the stuff and we’ll give you a cleaning on Saturday.”

Castiel groans loudly, and then cuts himself off suddenly at the rumble of a familiar engine and the crunch of tires on gravel. He looks towards the side of the house so suddenly that he almost unseats himself, and then he’s struggling off the lounger to get to his feet.

“No way. They told me they wouldn’t be able to make it!”

In fact, he had a video call just this morning with the Winchesters where they wished him a happy birthday. They had been in some motel room God-knows-where, and they spent an _hour_ talking with him. Why would they do that if they were just going to come here today?

Anna and Aunt Amara are grinning at him, both too smug for their own good. And then Aunt Amara holds up the barbecue tongs and clicks them together. “Honestly, I expected you to question why I had so many burgers a lot sooner.”

“I never even considered this!”

Castiel tucks his wings tight to his back even though his excitement wants them to spread and puff up. He runs for the side of the house, rounding around it and into the front yard just in time to find the Impala parking in front of the garage. Since he’s on the far side of the house, there’s enough time for Dean and Sam to get out of the car by the time he jogs across the distance between them.

Dean spreads his arms, grinning widely. “Surprise!”

It’s been a few weeks since the last time they saw each other in person. Things were awkward between them then, but that awkwardness hasn’t been reflected in their text messages or phone calls. There was no hint of it in the video call this morning, and it’s the farthest thing from Castiel’s mind as he all but runs straight into Dean’s arms for a hug.

“Did we throw you off track with that call this morning?” Dean laughs, arms tight around Castiel’s shoulders. “Were you expecting us?”

Castiel laughs and lifts Dean off his feet in a hug. “I had no idea you were coming!” Anna and Aunt Amara must have known, and they did well with keeping the secret too.

Dean’s laughter echoes across the gravel drive. He’s flushed and looking as giddy as Castiel feels when he looks down at him, still being held up. “I totally thought Anna would’ve spilled the beans.”

Sam comes around the side of the car, grin just as big as Dean’s. “Good thing she didn’t.” He waits until Castiel has put Dean down before drawing him into his own birthday hug. “Of course, we weren’t going to miss today.”

“Thank you for coming.” Castiel can’t remember the last time he smiled this much. His cheeks actually hurt, but it’s a _good_ hurt. He’s _beyond_ happy to have his friends here for his birthday, even though he’s only turning thirty-one and it’s not really a big deal. It’s still nice to have two of his favourite people here to celebrate with.

“Leave your stuff and come join us.” Castiel grabs Dean by the hand and starts pulling him towards the corner of the house. “The burgers are on the grill and should be done soon.”

“Go on.” Sam waves a hand when Dean hesitate. “I’ll bring the cooler.”

Oh, right. They must have some stuff that can’t stay in the car for too long. Castiel stops and glances back. “If it’s important, we don’t have to rush. I can help –”

“It’s one cooler, Cas.” Dean squeezes his hand and keeps going past him; now the one pulling Castiel along. “Sammy’s got it taken care of.”

As they round the house into the backyard, Castiel is suddenly _very_ aware of the fact that they’re holding hands. He didn’t even notice it at first and now – Now there’s no way to extract his hand from Dean’s without it being very obvious. It’s – it’s fine, right? It’s not as if their fingers are laced together like lovers or anything like that. It’s just Dean pulling him along by his hand. It’s not _really _holding hands.

Right?

God, why is _this_ making his brain trip all over itself? He didn’t have a problem with hugging Dean just a few moments ago. Now he can’t focus on anything except the head of Dean’s hand in his and how his palms are starting to get sweaty.

No, no, _no_! Castiel mentally shakes himself out. He just spent the last few weeks preparing himself for when he was going to see Dean again after acknowledging his feelings for him. Just because he briefly forgot about all that in the wake of excitement at having his friends home for his birthday doesn’t mean all that hard work is for naught. He just needs to find that status quo again and cling to it.

And yet his cheeks still feel too warm as he follows Dean around to the stairs and up onto the deck. Anna is throwing more burgers and hot dogs onto the grill in the spaces left behind as Aunt Amara removes them one at a time onto the waiting plate, along with a half dozen baked potatoes.

“You almost didn’t make it.” Aunt Amara points at her watch with the tongs in her hand. “You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think?”

“Blame Sam.” Dean shrugs, grinning. “He took too long to do his hair.”

Castiel knows a lie when he hears it. He sighs and squeezes Dean’s hand until he winces.

“Okay, okay!” Dean shakes his grip off and hugs his hand to his chest. “We planned on buying a gift on the way here but I took too long to make a choice while we were shopping.” He looks down at his hand with a wounded pout. “Damn, Cas. You’ve got a hell of a grip there.”

“I know.” He hums and takes the plate from his aunt. “You deserved it for lying.”

With that, he sticks his tongue out at Dean and heads inside. There are too many bugs out for him to want to eat dinner outside. No amount of coating himself in bug spray would keep them away from all the food.

Dean follows him and makes a curious sound before they’re even in the house. “Cas, are you growing your wings out?” A gentle touch skims along the edge of one of his primaries and it takes all of Castiel’s self control not to react to it. “They look longer than last time.”

All he allows is to twitch his wing away from the touch. “No, you’re imagining it.”

“He’s lying!” Anna blinks into place next to him so suddenly that Castiel jumps in surprise, nearly throwing the burgers across the room. Even with all the practice he’s had with _not_ reacting when she does that, there are still times that she manages to get him.

“Don’t _do_ that.”

Anna’s grin is smug, but it’s not Castiel that she addresses next. Instead, she leans in to whisper loudly to Dean. “It’s his _fall __molt_.”

“No way!” Dean gasps and almost bounds across the room to investigate Castiel’s wings closely. “Does that mean they’re going to get all the colours again?”

Dammit. He should have known this was going to happen.

“No.” He sighs and puts the plate down a little harder than he should. “It’s just going to be itchy for a month, that’s all.”

“Aw, sorry, buddy.” Dean pats him on the shoulder. “I know you really hate molting.”

Castiel looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Don’t think you’re going to get more feathers if you stick around for this one.” He turns to flick at the necklace hanging around Dean’s neck. “You got your allotted number of feathers during the last molting.”

For a moment, Dean looks disappointed, but then Anna is leaning into his side and slinging an arm around his shoulder – which is quite the feat given the height difference. “You might not be able to get some new feathers, but –” Her voice pitches into a bouncy sing-song tune. “Or you could always help him scratch!”

_Ugh_. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with Anna’s teasing. Rather than reprimand her verbally, he settles on slapping her in the back of the head with one of his wings as he passes her to get the plates out of the cupboard.

Dean shoves Anna away with a hand on the top of her head. “You can shush.”

“Rude!

“Both of you should shush and help set up for the dinner we’re all going to eat.” Castiel huffs. “I’m the birthday boy. Why am _I _doing all the work?”

Anna grabs Dean’s collar and pulls him down to her level to whisper loudly to him again. “This is the only time of the year when he acts like a brat. Treasure it while you can.”

Castiel makes a mental note to ban her from his house for at least a week. Dean has been here only for a few minutes and she’s already pushing it – and has been pushing it since he first told her about his feelings for Dean. Like a gossiping teenager, Anna has been bringing _that_ up every other time that she’s been here. Castiel has already run out of ways to avoid talking about it and has resorted to just flat out ignoring any questions she has.

In fact, Anna had to put a pass-code on her phone because of how much he doesn’t trust her. He stole her phone one time too many to make sure that she wasn’t saying things to Dean _or_ Sam that he didn’t want her telling them. She swore that she hasn’t told them anything, and she really hasn’t given Castiel a reason not to believe her before, but then what was the point of the pass-code? What else is she hiding from him?

The situation between him and Dean has been talked to death. But no matter how much Anna tries to talk him into it, Castiel is just not willing to risk losing his friendship with the Winchesters in the case that things _might_ not work out. He has no relationship experience and he’s well aware of how he’s not the easiest person to be around. He’s riddled with anxieties and he’s stubborn and – and – and there’s just too much on the line for him to risk it.

When Anna opens her mouth again to tease him more, Castiel gives her one of his frostiest warning glares. If that doesn’t get her to stop, nothing will.

She snaps her jaw shut with an audible clack and steps away from Dean, hands raised in defeat. Castiel maintains his glare until she turns on her heel and scurries across the kitchen to get the veggie tray and various tubs of salad out of the fridge.

For birthday barbecues, Castiel likes to have the whole spread. They have baked potatoes, they have macaroni salad, they have potato salad, they have a jar of pickles, they have coleslaw, and they have two whole bags of plain potato chips. And they have all the regular hamburger and hot dog fixings. With Dean and Anna’s help, Castiel gets it all lined up along the counter in a little line of deliciousness and this is lining up to be one of the best birthdays ever.

The only way that it could have been better is if Dean had made the burgers himself. These are store bought and Castiel knows they’re just not going to be even half as tasty.

One after another, the four of them put together their plates. Castiel gets to go first, since he’s the birthday boy and the birthday boy _always_ goes first. He’s also the first to the dining room and, as always, selects the chair at the head of the table. The dining room is decked out in all the birthday decor that Anna had to put up when she was over yesterday, otherwise Castiel would have been too excited and put it all up this morning by himself.

They all get settled together and tuck in. After a few minutes of silence and chewing, Dean launches into an animated (though somewhat bitchy) explanation about how they _just missed_ their dad when they were trying to follow his last hunt.

“Literally, we checked into the motel the _same day_ that he checked out!” Dean gestures angrily with a carrot stick. “Just hours apart!”

“And, of course, no one was paying attention to which direction he took when he left.” Sam sighs and props his cheek up on a fist.

Dean groans loudly and slumps back in his seat. “We were _so close_.” He pouts as he pushes his macaroni salad around the empty parts of his plate. “We drove around to all the local gas stations and bars, and we couldn’t catch _any_ trail of him.”

Castiel pauses after swallowing a mouthful of cheeseburger. “Maybe he doesn’t go to bars?”

Sam covers a snort of laughter with a cough. “Obviously you don’t know our dad. Hitting up a bar was practically ritual for him whenever he finished a hunt.”

“Yeah, it used to be ours too.” Dean nods, focusing more on his next bite of food. Midway through chewing, he freezes and looks up. “Uh -”

Anna leans forward, eyes bright and smile wide – with just a dab of ketchup caught in the corner of her mouth. “Oh yeah What’s your ritual now?”

“Nothing.” He answers too quickly and looks down at his plate. “We just stopped doing it. We pack up and move on to the next hunt.”

Castiel has had plenty of experience now with learning body language and social cues, especially when concerning the Winchesters. He knows Dean is trying to avoid something, and now his curiosity is piqued. With a raised eyebrow, he looks to Sam, knowing that he’ll answer.

Sure enough, Sam shrugs. “Yeah, we pack up and go back to Bobby’s place to change our clothes and pick up anything we want to bring here.” He pointedly ignores the venomous look Dean throws his way, and the way he clears his throat. “We might grab a new hunt, but usually our end-of-the-hunt ritual is to start making our way back here.”

There’s a loud thump under the table and Sam hisses with a wince. “What?” He turns a frown to Dean. “They _know_ that we come here between hunts. It’s not a secret.”

“Yes, but we didn’t know that you changed your habits to _that_ extent.” Aunt Amara leans back with her wine glass in hand. “To think you changed so much to incorporate Castiel into your life. That’s very sweet of you.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” Sam nods, leaning forward. There’s a smile pulling up one side of his mouth and Castiel realizes that he’s _teasing_ Dean now. “Now Dean rushes us off almost the same day that we’re done. No more bars, no more celebratory drinks, and no relaxing showers.

“You filthy _liar_.” Dean hisses and kicks him again. This time, however, he winces and it’s Sam’s chair that jerks instead of him. “We _always_ have a celebratory drink.”

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t think a coffee had in the car on the way out of town counts.”

“It definitely does.”

“Does not.”

“Does _too_!”

Aunt Amara clears her throat and they both fall silent, eyeing her up like a scolded child would. It takes a lot of Castiel’s self-control to keep himself from laughing. He hides his smile behind taking a big bite out of his burger. Hearing that Dean changed up their rituals so much just to come out and see him has his heart beating a little harder than normal.

Dean grumbles and takes the top off his burger only to squish a handful of chips into the cheese. He puts it all together again and takes a big, crunchy bite out of it. While he chews, he glares spitefully at his brother. It’s really too easy to tease him, and Sam is unfazed by it all. There’s almost a serene kind of air around him as he crunches into a ranch-covered piece of cauliflower.

“So, boys.” Aunt Amara breaks the somewhat awkward silence. ‘How long are you going to be sticking around this time?”

“A week or so, I guess?” Dean shrugs and glances at Castiel. “Depends on how long you feel like tolerating us this time around.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. Hasn’t he made it obvious that he wants them around? If Castiel had his way, the Winchesters would move in with his permanently. Sam could have the guest room and Dean could just move into his and – Oh. No! He’s _not_ supposed to be thinking about that. He’s not supposed to _want_ that. Friendship. That’s all he wants! _Friendship_.

“I don’t know.” He feigns indifference and pretends to be more focused on his food. “Is you staying around for a while supposed to be my birthday present?”

“Of course not.” Dean grins and shakes his head. “That’s still in the car.” He pauses and looks to Sam again. “Right?”

Sam nods. “I didn’t bring it is. I thought Cas might try and peek.”

That’s almost insulting. “I would _never_.”

“He’s right. He never peeks.” Anna chuckles and throws a cherry tomato and him. “He just tries and weasels it out of you with his _words_.”

“He hasn’t been successful yet, and I doubt he ever will be.” Aunt Amara gives him a smug smile. The timer in the kitchen goes off and she cuts off whatever other teasing remarks she had. “That’s my cue to go check on the barbecue. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Castiel waits until she’s left the room before taking a spiteful bite of his burger. “This isn’t how you treat the birthday boy.”

“Please enlighten us on how the _birthday boy_ should be treated.” Anna waves her fork at him, nearly losing her potatoes. “I’d _love_ to hear all about it.”

“Like a _king_.” Castiel huffs, feathers fluffing. “I should have a birthday crown.”

“We’ve _never_ had a birthday crown.” She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “Isn’t it enough that I had to decorate the house for you?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “What do you mean ‘_had to’_? I never said a word about it. You’re the one who went and did it all on your own last night.”

Anna opens her mouth to argue back, but stops. She looks at Dean, eyes narrowed. “What?”

Castiel looks at him too, only to find that Dean has pushed his plate out of the way and has propped his chin on his hands. He flutters his eyelashes at them, smiling coyly. “I love it when you guys bicker.”

“Oh, shut up.” Anna actually flicks her potatoes at him this time.

“It’s just so _sweet_ how much you two are like real siblings.” Dean sighs wistfully, and it makes Castiel want to throw his whole baked potato at him too.

“Well, we’re close _now _but we didn’t grow up together.”Castiel sighs and picks at his potato, weighing the odds of starting a food fight on his birthday. Ugh, but then he would have to clean up and – Yeah, no. That sounds like a terrible idea.

Dean sits back, surprised. “You didn’t?”

Anna shakes her head. “Nope. There were six years between when Castiel moved her and when me and mom did. I’m also six years younger than him.”

“She was just a toddler when I moved away.”

“Yeah, I barely remembered who you were before we moved out here.” She sighs and the smile she turns on Castiel is rather sappy. “And now we spend so much time together that you’re like a brother.”

That is rather touching, but Castiel doesn’t want his birthday to turn into a sappy tear-jerker. “Purely because you pity me for living alone.”

“Not true!” Anna looks so insulted that he can’t help but laugh.

Dean and Sam are both smiling brightly and, one after the other, start laughing too. Anna eventually giggle-snorts her way into it too. They’re all laughing in some way when Aunt Amara returns to the room – and then they laugh _harder_ at the confused look she gives them as she settles back into her seat.

Castiel is the first to get his laughter under control. He looks around the table and he can’t help smiling at all of them, feathers fluffing with happiness. It’s nice that things aren’t awkward; that he and Dean can be normal around each other. They have specifically not mentioned anything about what happened in Sioux Falls since that night, doing exactly what Dean asked they do - _‘forgetting’ about it._

Obviously, it’s not all forgotten. Castiel thinks about it more often than he cares for, and he’s been thinking about it even more since he realized that it’s about time for his fall molt to come in. Having a second set of hands to help with the scratching would be _fantastic_.

And, of course, his stupid _heart_ won’t stay under control. His heart keeps fluttering every time he hears Dean’s voice, no matter how hard he tries to make it stop doing that. It’s really not helping things right now to listen to Dean laugh right now, and watch how his smile puts little crinkles in the corner of his eyes. It’s just _so nice_.

Finally, Dean spirals down from his laughter. He relaxes back in his chair with a loud, happy sigh. “Gosh, you guys are cute.”

Anna’s answer is to stick her tongue out at him. Castiel does the same and, as one, they both return to their meals. That only makes Dean dissolve right back into laughter again – which makes it very hard for Castiel to actually eat his food and not have his stomach tie itself in knots.

* * *

After dinner, and after cleaning up (because Castiel refuses to leave his kitchen messy on his _birthday_), the cake and the hats are brought out. Aside from getting to spend time with those closest to him, this is one of his most favourite parts of his birthday.

_The cake_.

When it comes to his birthday cake, there is only one kind of cake that Castiel wants. He's had it for every birthday that he can remember, and he loves it. An Oreo ice cream cake. If it’s not that, then it’s not his birthday cake. Only once can he remember Anna buying something else and the party having to be put on hold until someone could get the right cake. He refused to touch it or blow out any candles on it and – Okay, yes. He _is_ a bit of a diva on his birthday.

But it’s not his fault when it comes to and Oreo ice cream cake. It’s the kind of treat that Castiel only gets once a year – specifically, on his birthday. He suspects that Anna and Aunt Amara choose the same cake for themselves purely because of how much he loves them.

Castiel may be an adult, but he doesn’t purchase them whenever he goes grocery shopping because he’s worried that it will melt by the time he gets home. If he ever _did_ cave and start buying these things regularly, he would over indulge to an incredible degree.

“Ready?” Anna calls from the kitchen.

It’s very difficult to _not_ wiggle in his seat in excitement like a child. Castiel settles for drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. “Yes!”

“Wait!”

Dean stands up sharply, grabbing the hat that Castiel had been ignoring. At the moment, he’s the only one not wearing one. Apparently, that’s not acceptable, because Dean puts it on his head and snaps the string under his chin. Castiel slaps at him and would pull the hat off if that wasn’t the exact moment that his aunt and cousin decided to come back into the room.

The candles are unlit when Aunt Amara brings the cake in. Anna has all the presents in hand and she arranges them at the end of the table as the cake is placed in front of Castiel. They take their seats and Aunt Amara pulls out a lighter.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it.” Sam leans forward to squint at the candles. A moment later, the flames flares to life on the little wicks. Both Anna and Aunt Amara jump in surprise, clearly having forgotten that pyrokinesis is one of Sam’s powers. It’s understandable. He uses them so rarely that sometimes Castiel forgets that he’s even a mutant.

Anna is the first to start singing. She has a wonderful singing voice, and the notes are clear and precise until the rest of those gathered join in. Dean has a strong voice too, but he’s just _slightly_ off key and Castiel honestly can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose or not. Part way through the lyrics, Sam goes _very _off key, which Dean matches, and by the end it becomes a competition between who can sing worse. Castiel kind of likes it, though his birthday always makes him very giddy and forgiving. His birthday always makes him feel like a child all over again – even without his parents here.

When the song ends, Castiel blows out the candles. The flames go out, and then flicker back to life. He frowns at them briefly before trying to blow them out again. Once more, they flare back up and now his suspicions are _definitely_ running high.

He turns a squint on Sam. “Are you doing this, or are these trick candles?”

Sam folds his hands primly on the table and fails at looking innocent. “No, of course not.”

Castiel holds eye contact with him as he blows out his candles for a _third_ time. This time, they stay out and Sam looks away with a jaunty, innocent whistle. Dean covers his mouth with both hands and does a bad job of muffling his laughter.

That’s when Castiel notices that Anna has her phone out and it’s panning back and forth between the three of them. She lowers it proudly. “I got that all on video.”

When in the world did she pull her phone out? Castiel is almost positive that no one had their phone in hand during the birthday song. He would have noticed. Hell, he should have been the one filming. It was hilarious and now he regrets not having the memory saved.

“Share it with me.” Dean pulls his phone out and checks it, as if expecting it to already be in the group chat. “I want to make that confused face with the little eye twitch he made as my phone background.”

Castiel pushes back from the table enough that he can see where he aims his kick. It catches Dean in the ankle and he squeaks, turning a pout on him. “Aw, c’mon, Cas! It’s not going to be any worse than what I’ve got right now.”

Somehow, his blood runs cold and his body feels too hot all at the same time. He narrows his eyes warily, eyeing Dean’s phone. “What do you currently have?”

With a flourish, Dean turns his phone around and wakes it up to show his lock screen. Castiel is met with his own face, though not at his best. He looks like a partially drowned rat with his feathers ruffled by a towel and his hair freshly dyed blue, with streaks of the dye standing out along his hairline.

“Oh my _God_.” Castiel makes a grab for the phone. “Why is _that_ your background?”

“Why _wouldn’t_ it be?” Dean leans away; holding his phone out of reach. “It should be in the _Louvre_.”

Sam grunts and ducks as he nearly gets hit in the face with Dean’s phone. He pushes it away, and then makes a valiant attempt to distract them from Dean’s blatant betrayal. “What’s your background, Cas?”

“Floating bubbles.” He sits back and crosses his arms; fixing Dean with a glare.

“To clarify, that’s his regular background.” Aunt Amara explains as she drags the cake over so she can start cutting it. “He only uses a picture on his lock screen so his app icons don’t cover the picture, and it’s been the same picture for forever.”

“It hasn’t been _forever_.” Castiel pouts. “Just since I got my first smartphone.”

Dean sits forward again, excited. “What is it? Let me see!”

This isn’t what he expected to have to do on his birthday. Castiel rolls his eyes and gets his phone from his pocket. He passes it over to Dean and sighs when Sam leans in to see it too. A soft smile passes over Dean’s face. “Aw, are these your parents?”

“Yes.” Castiel passes the plates to Aunt Amara so she can start plating the pieces of ice cream cake. “The last family photo we had together before they died.”

Sam pulls Dean’s hand, and the phone, closer to his face. He squints at the picture and tilts his head slightly as he looks it over. “Do you take after your mom more than your dad? You have his scruff, but it looks like you’ve got a couple inches on him.”

“He was the spitting image of his mother when he was a baby.” Aunt Amara sighs, looking at Castiel with an air of nostalgia. “And then you looked just like your dad when you were nine years old. After that, you became a nice little mix of the both of them.”

She reaches over to pat him on the cheek. It makes Castiel wrinkle his nose and she points at it – even poking him on the tip of his nose. “Ah-hah! Your dad used to do that _all_ the time.” He sticks his tongue out at her, but she just smiles wider. “And that’s all you, baby.”

With that, she moves the first plate of ice cream in front of him. “Tuck in, kiddo.”

_Finally_.

Castiel sits up straighter and excitedly digs into the Oreo cookie and vanilla ice cream with a fantastically crumbly crust.

Dean groans softly under his breath. “That’s unfairly cute.”

The words are barely a whisper, but Castiel catches them. He glances at Dean, eyebrow raised, and gets a front seat view of his cheeks going pink. Realizing that he was heard, Dean looks quickly across the table at Anna and speaks louder than normal. “So - uh – what’s _your _phone screen?”

Her grin is too wide and too knowing for Castiel’s liking. She passes her phone across the table for them to see. “The lock screen is the tree of us from New Years Eve, and my background is just me and mom.” She gives Castiel and Aunt Amara a warm smile. “I always take a new picture of us at the start of every year and keep that as my lock screen for the year.”

“That’s a cute idea.” Sam passes her phone back along with his own. “This is mine.” It’s makes the rounds around the table, and Castiel is almost a little disappointed that it’s just a simple geometric pattern. “I have the same one on lock screen and background.”

“How come it’s not a picture of you and Dean?” Castiel digs into his cake with more glee than a thirty-one-year-old man should have over ice cream cake.

Sam shrugs and accept the plate of cake that Aunt Amara passes him. “I see his ugly mug every day. Why would I want it on my phone too?” He grins at Dean and his shocked gasp.

“I’m _wounded_, Sammy!” Dean lays a hand over his heart.

“Hey, you don’t have a picture of _me_ as your background either!”

Yes, apparently Dean has a picture of _Castiel_ as his background. Not his family or lifelong friends, or even a picture of his missing father. No, it’s a picture of _him_. He ducks his head and focuses on his piece of cake because the last thing he wants to do is think about what that might mean.

Once Aunt Amara has finished passing out slices of cake, she pushes the main cake into the middle of the table. “Not that anyone has asked, but my phone is the same as Anna’s.”

“You didn’t really give us a chance to get to you, mom. You were next.”

Aunt Amara just huffs, pouting. She winks at Castiel when he glances her way, proving that she’s just teasing. He rolls his eyes and pulls the cake close enough to cut himself a second, more generous helping because he’s the birthday boy and he’s allowed as much cake as he wants on his birthday.

Both Dean and Sam raise they eyebrows at him, and Castiel ignores them both. “I like ice cream cake.”

“Understatement.” Anna chimes in and earns a dirty look.

“Shut up, Anna.”

“Don‘t tell your cousin to shut up.” Aunt Amara taps the back of his hand with the back of her fork.

Castiel sighs. ”Yes, Auntie.”

Anna grins, victorious. She always loves it when Aunt Amara is on her side - which isn’t as often as one would think. The only reason Castiel is able to shrug it off and not goad Anna into getting Aunt Amara to scold her too is because he has ice cream cake. It’s crunchy and cool and absolutely delicious with all the little Oreo pieces sprinkled on top and the perfect crust. He hums happily while eating it, eyes closed and feathers rustling delightfully.

The sound of a camera clicking makes him open his eyes again, and he immediately turns a frown on Dean. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t mind me.” Dean grins and starts fidgeting with his phone. “I’m just preserving the moment.”

“That had better not be a new background.” Castiel sighs and returns to his cake. Nothing can be considered bad when he has Oreo ice cream cake.

Anna rustles the tissue paper sticking out of the only gift bag sitting on the end of the table. “So, when do you want to do presents?”

What kind of question is that? She knows he won’t do anything when It's cake time. “After cake.”

She pouts and pokes at the envelope propped up against one of the bags. “But I got you such a _good_ gift!”

He looks up from his cake with a flat look. “You got me an Amazon gift card like you do every year because you think I’m too hard to shop for since I don’t go anywhere and I beat you to buying the things I want for my hobbies.” Specifically, his hobbies concerning video games and books.

That makes Anna close her mouth with a snap and a dirty look. Aunt Amara pats her on the shoulder. “There, there, dear. At least I got him something good.”

Castiel gives her the same flat look. “And you always get me clothes.” It might sound like he’s not being appreciative for what they get him, but he does. He always loves what the get him and It's very useful. He uses Anna’s gift cards to buy the books and video games he wants, and Aunt Amara always modifies the clothes for his wings first - which is nice, because he rarely buys clothes for himself.

“Maybe I didn’t do that this time.” Aunt Amara hums, smiling back at him with an all too smug tilt to her head. “Or maybe I did. You’ll just have to wait and see. Either way, it’s something good.”

“Yeah, but Sammy and I definitely got him the best gift.” Dean puffs up, radiating pride.

They’re really pushing him about the presents, aren’t they? “Let me finish my cake first.” He scrapes up the last bit of Oreo crust off his plate and reaches for the knife to get himself a third.

“Oh no.” Aunt Amara beats him to it. She picks up both knife and cake and stands up to head for the kitchen. “No more, sweetie. Two slices is more than enough. I’ll put the leftovers in your freezer and you can have more tomorrow.”

Anna snorts hard enough that Castiel is surprised ice cream doesn’t come out it. “Yeah, right. Tomorrow means midnight tonight and that’s when he’s going to be in the kitchen getting another slice.” She really does know him too well and Castiel glares her down. Anna just sticks her tongue out at him. “You love your ice cream cake _too_ much.”

“It’s a _once-a-year_ treat!” And a well-managed addiction, if he does say so himself.

Dean frowns in confusion, glancing first at Aunt Amara passing with the cake, and then at Castiel. “You know you could get it at any time, right? Or what about other birthdays?”

“I prefer red velvet.” Aunt Amara calls from the kitchen.

“And I like marble.” Anna polishes off the last of her cake, really drawing it out as if she were mocking Castiel with those last few bites.

Castiel sighs, slumping forward onto his elbows. “And we had a regular cake for Sam’s birthday and a stupid _pie_ -” He ignores the way Dean gasps. “- for your birthday. So, yes, this is a once-a-year treat.”

“Otherwise he’d have one every week.”

“I would _not_.”

Aunt Amara walks back in and clears her throat. “Well, I don’t see a cake slice in front of Castiel. Doesn’t that mean it’s time for presents?” She gestures at Amara. “Why don’t you pass those down?”

Castiel sits up more, excited. Anna and Sam pass down the gifts and Dean arranges them in front of Castiel so that the two wrapped boxes are stacked front and center. That leaves the bag that must be from Aunt Amara, and the envelope with Anna’s gift card. However, just to spite Dean, Castiel purposefully reaches past the boxes to open the envelope first.

As expected, there’s a gift card to Amazon, but Anna always gets him such a nice greeting card. This time it’s a sentimental one meant for a brother, and that alone very nearly brings a tear to Castiel’s eye. He gets up to give her a hug and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

Next is the gift from his aunt. She’s back at the table by that point. He pulls the tissue paper out of the bag and takes the contents out one by one. First, he finds a travel pillow – the kind shaped like a big ‘U’. Next is a travel blanket that has a slit in the back of the packaging to allow it to fit over the handle of a rolling suitcase. After that, he pulls a leopard print eye-mask from the bag, and follows that up with a journal clearly labeled as a _Travel Journal_.

He raises an eyebrow as he flips through the journal and notes the world map at the beginning of the book where he’s supposed to highlight the places he’s been. “Did you get me all of this because I went on one trip to Sioux Falls?”

“It’s wishful thinking.” Aunt Amara reaches out to ruffle his hair. “I hope you spread your wings more and get out there. Go have some fun, kiddo.”

“Thank you, Auntie. I love it.” Castiel leans over to kiss her on the cheek. He’s already planning on how he’ll fill out the first few pages with the information from his trip to Sioux Falls.

Dean clears his throat loudly and pushes the two wrapped boxes closer. “I know you’re just saving the best for last, but could y’just open these now?”

“Yes, yes.” Castiel laughs and picks up the first one. He shakes it slightly and is actually surprised to hear things rattling inside. “What is it?”

“Just open it.” Dean drums his fingers on the other box, clearly excited.

Well, now he’s just making it _too_ easy. Castiel purposefully takes his time in finding the edges of the wrapping paper and _oh so carefully_ breaking the tape. Dean groans loudly and drops his head back. He grumbles and bites his lip instead of actually complaining. It’s a little cute that Castiel can so easily get under his skin with so little work.

When he finally puts the wrapping aside, it’s to find a board game. Or, rather, after reading the box, a card game. “_The Resistance_? This looks interesting.” He passes the box on to Aunt Amara and Anna for them to read it over too.

“And the other!” Dean pushes the next, considerably bigger box, closer. “Open it!”

“I feel like you’re more excited about this than he is.” Sam shakes his head and Castiel nods in agreement. It really does feel that way.

He takes just as much time with opening it, if not even longer. Dean drags his hands over his face with a groan. “You’re _killing_ me here.”

“I’m having a wonderful time.” Anna adds, putting _The Resistance_ aside. “Take all the time in the world that you need to get that wrapping off.”

Castiel really draws it out – an almost obscene amount of time, actually – before finally throwing the wrapping paper aside. It’s another board game and he turns the box over to read the description of this one too. “_Pandemic_. Very interesting.”

“Finally!” Dean sits forward and all but pulls the box out of Castiel’s hands. “We’re going to play these now, right? _Please_?” He shakes the box and gives Castiel some _very_ effective puppy eyes.

There’s no way he could say ‘no’ to that face. “Yes, Dean, we can play it right now.” Castiel pauses and glances at his aunt and cousin. “If you can stick around for a game or two?”

Aunt Amara checks her watch. “I think I can stay for a while longer. I have to work in the morning, so I can’t be staying _too_ late.”

“Thanks, Auntie.” Castiel leans over to kiss her on the cheek. “Okay, Dean. Let’s get this all set out.”

Dean grins brightly and pulls a flip knife out of seemingly nowhere. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had it hidden up his sleeve or somewhere equally likely. He slices through the plastic wrapping on _Pandemic_ while Sam clears space on the table by taking the empty plates away. Anna takes the rest of the presents and moves them to the coffee table.

Castiel claims the instruction manual while Dean gets started on setting out the board and all the little pieces that come with it. He reads through it rather quickly, since it seems like a pretty simplistic game – though interesting.

“Oh, I like this!” He shakes the instructions out with a smile. “We’re going to have to work as a team _together_ to save the world from three separate diseases that spread prolifically across the globe.”

“Aw, does that mean we’re not going to be competitive?” Anna drops back into her chair with a pout and crosses her arms. “But I like kicking your asses! I’m so _good_ at that.”

Dean shares a look with Castiel before rolling his eyes. “You still get to kick ass, only you’re kicking the ass of these diseases.” He giggles bags filled with different coloured beads in them. “And we get to help you do it!”

“Ugh, fine.” She looks neither convinced nor impressed. “Yay, teamwork.”

Aunt Amara pats the back of Anna’s hand. “So glad to know that I raised a team player.”

Castiel snorts and shakes his head. He knows how competitive Anna is, since he shares in that attribute too. Even still, he thinks they’ll both get plenty of fun out of this. They’ve got to beat the contagion before it spreads and depending on which characters they get and the draw of the pandemic cards, it’s not entirely guaranteed that they’ll win even with teamwork.

He focuses on thoroughly reading the rules as Sam refills everyone’s drinks and Dean randomly distributes the character cards. At least one of them should know what the hell they have to do. The rules seem fairly simple and it’s just the walkthrough of the rounds that he devotes to memory. It sounds fun and it’s not overly complicated, which he likes.

Castiel is really looking forward to playing this and having a fun end to his birthday with the people who mean the most to him.

* * *

“Okay, kiddos. I’m heading out!” Aunt Amara calls from the front door where she’s stooped to pull on her shoes. Castiel is the only one who actually went with her to the stairs. “Anna? Are you going to come with me or are you sleeping over?”

“Sleeping over!” Anna blinks into place next to her and picks up a backpack that had been left in the corner by the door. Castiel hadn’t even noticed it earlier.

Dean groans as he and Sam come over to the top of the stairs. “Damn. I guess we gotta rock-paper-scissors. Loser gets the floor.” He turns to Sam, hands held in the standard starting position. “Winner sleeps on the couch.”

“You could always share the guest bed with me.” Anna grins, mostly at Castiel, as starts up the stairs and brushes past him while he waits for his goodbye hug and kiss.

Oh, he is going to have some _choice_ words for her later. When they’re alone and he can properly smother her with a pillow.

“Or!” Anna claps her hands together and Castiel turns from Aunt Amara to see what nonsense she’s up to now. “Why don’t you and Cas share a bed?” She pointedly elbows Dean while giving Castiel a look riddled with bouncing eyebrows. “You guys did that for a week in Sioux Falls, didn’t you?”

Some _very_ choice words.

Castiel manages a tight smile before turning back to his aunt. “Thank you for the gifts and cake.” He pulls her into a hug and kisses her on the cheek. “Have a safe drive home and don’t forget to text me once you get home.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Aunt Amara gives him a big, smacking kiss on his cheek too. She pats him on the shoulder and drops her voice into a whisper. “Don’t kill her if you can help it.”

He grits his teeth. “I’ll try not to.”

Laughter follows her out and Castiel watches until she’s in the car before he closes the door. Anna, Dean, and Sam are all watching him expectantly and it takes everything in his power to keep himself from glaring at her. “Or, like when auntie sleeps over and takes the guest bed, _you_ share my bed. That should work.”

Because just _thinking_ about sharing a bed with Dean again his having his pulse climb through the roof. If possible, Castiel would actually like to _sleep_ tonight, and he doubts he would be able to do that when he’s now extremely aware of literally everything to do with Dean.

Anna shakes her head and fans her eyes. “But my allergies are flaring up and your feathers are just going to make them worse.”

“You don’t _have_ any allergies.” He starts up the stairs and all three of them immediately back away. Dean and Sam are sharing looks bordering on concerned, but Castiel has to ignore them for now. “You have _never_ been allergic to my feathers.”

“I’m pretty sure I would know if I did or did not have allergies.”

She crosses her arms and stands her ground in the hallway, facing Castiel down as he comes to a stop in front of her. He tries to convey through his glare alone that she needs to _back the hell off_ right now. Anna is dangerously close to ruining his birthday by playing her stupid games and he’s not in the mood for her shenanigans right now.

After a few moments, Anna sighs loudly. “Just share the stupid bed with Dean.”

There’s not _quite_ a sharp inhale behind him, but Castiel can practically feel how Dean stands up a little straighter behind him. He narrows his eyes in warning, wings arching. Unfortunately, the vaguely threatening display isn’t enough to make her back down. Castiel is absolutely going to _tear her a new one_ for this later. She promised that she wouldn’t stick her nose in things and this is doing the _exact opposite_ of that.

And he hasn’t even considered yet how this must be making Dean feel. Here Castiel is, blatantly arguing in favour of _not_ sharing a room with him, even after they spent a week together sharing a bed. It doesn’t look good, does it?

Oh, God. Does it look like Castiel is trying to avoid him? That’s – Well, it’s not _entirely_ true. It’s just that – What if he unconsciously cuddles up to Dean during the night? He’s already proven that he has a penchant for putting a wing over him without thinking about it. Granted, his bed here is _much_ bigger than the bed Dean has. Maybe nothing would happen here with all that space taken into account. And then that way, Anna would get the bed and Sam could have the couch.

Shit. He’s going to lose this argument, isn’t he?

Of course he is.

The last thing Castiel would ever want to do is hurt Dean’s feelings and this – this could be hurting him.

With a sigh, he points his finger in Anna’s face and leans in close. “You and I are _not_ done with this.” He turns around to point at Dean. “You; get your bag.” At that, Castiel brushes past Anna and stomps down the hall. “Good_night_ everyone!”

“’Night, Cas!” Sam calls after him, and then immediately drops his voice into something quieter – as if Castiel still can’t hear him. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Anna’s innocence doesn’t quite make it into her voice and Castiel grits his teeth against turning around and saying anything else to her.

Dean’s bag rustles as he shoulders it, but it’s not loud enough to drown out his own hissed words. “You better not have just ruined his birthday with this – whatever the hell this was.”

That’s the last Castiel hears as he ducks into his bedroom. Dean follows him through shortly after and shuts the door behind him. There are muffled voices from the living room, and of course Dean throws him a few concerned glances as he puts his bag down at the end of the bed.

Castiel ignores it all and begins the process of getting out of his t-shirt. He tosses it in the hamper and heads off into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. It might be rude to not say anything, but he doesn’t trust himself not to say something that would be all the more damning.

By the time he comes out of the bathroom, Dean is changed into his pajamas. It doesn’t escape Castiel’s notice that he’s wearing the long-sleeved shirt that matches his pants again. The whole time that they shared a bed in Sioux Falls, he didn’t wear a shirt _once_. Though he did only remove it once the lights had been turned off.

Dean ducks past him into the bathroom, pausing only to give him a hopeful little smile. It puts Castiel’s feathers on edge, but in a _good_ way. His wings shift against his back and he has to quickly strip out of his sweats and into pajama pants so he can get into bed and hide his face in the pillow.

The sound of the bathroom door sliding open makes him hold his breath. Castiel turns his face out of the pillow just enough to notice when the light is turned off. There’s a soft touch on the covers and he breathes out slowly through his nose as Dean follows the edge of the bed around to his side. He gets in to bed too and the blankets fluff about a few feet away as he gets comfortable.

God, there’s no way Castiel is going to be able to relax enough to get to sleep.

“You okay, Cas?”

The rough whisper startles him, but the only evidence is his wings twitching slightly and his breath hitching. Castiel turns his face out of the pillow more. “I’m fine.” He sighs. “I’m just annoyed with Anna.”

After a few moments of silence, Dean shifts again. “I can go sleep in the living room if you’re not –”

“It’s fine, Dean.” Castiel rolls onto his side to face Dean. “I just think it would have made more sense for Anna to share my bed like she usually does whenever the guest room is in use.”

Dean hums quietly and turns over onto his other side. Castiel can only tell he’s facing away because of the bare light coming from under the curtain. He stares at the back of Dean’s head before it actually clicks. What he said might not necessarily _sound_ like how he meant it.

Castiel swears under his breath and pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Dean, I didn’t –”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas.” Dean waves his hand over his shoulder, but his voice is _off_. It’s tight and sounds like he’s uncomfortable, and it relocates Castiel’s stomach to his throat. “I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” He’s almost up on his knees now. “I didn’t mean it to sound like I would have preferred sleeping with Anna instead of with you, or that I have a _problem _with doing that with you now, or –”

Dean shakes his head. “Go to sleep, Cas.”

How could he possibly go to sleep when he hurt his best friend in ways he never intended. Castiel stays where he is – half propped up and staring at Dean’s back. He’s curled up on his side, curled in on himself, and it’s killing Castiel slightly that he’s wearing his shirt. It’s another barrier – another _shield_ – to protect himself with and – And what can he do to fix this?

When he finally puts himself in motion, Castiel reaches out to touch his shoulder; fingers sliding over the soft fabric of his nightshirt. “Dean.” He scoots a little closer, keeping his voice quiet just in case Anna or Sam might be able to hear them from the hallway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Castiel can’t handle the thought that Dean might think that he doesn’t want to share his bed because of what happened on their last night in Sioux Falls. That wasn’t supposed to affect their friendship. Weren’t things normal between them when they talked on the phone or sent text messages? Why are things in person so very _different_?

He didn’t _want_ to be different. Castiel wanted things to be _normal_ again. They were supposed to stay _just friends_, because then nothing would change and he wouldn’t stand the risk of losing his best friends. But knowing that he’s hurting his friend right now leaves that all behind in the dust. Castiel needs to make this right.

The body under his hand is stiff and unyielding, and Castiel shuffles a little closer. It’s unnerving not to have some kind of reaction from Dean when he’s always so responsive even just having him close. “Things between us aren’t –” He bites his lip and slowly lies down again, hand still firmly fit to the curve of Dean’s shoulder. “I’m _happy_ that you’re here. Thank you for coming out for my birthday.”

Slowly, Dean reaches back to cover his hand. He doesn’t say anything, but his fingers are warm and gentle as they slide over the back of his hand. It’s a start, but he still hasn’t _said_ anything and Castiel still feels unsettled. What more can he do to get Dean to open up to him again?

An idea occurs to him, and now his throat has to make room for his heart too. It’s pounding so hard that it’s about all he can actually _hear_.

With a deep breath, Castiel closes the last of the distance between them. He is now fully on Dean’s side of the bed and he slings both an arm and a wing over Dean. They’re so close now that he can practically feel the way Dean tenses.

He exhales slowly. “It’s not because of what happened, Dean.”

Now that he’s all but cuddling him, Castiel can actually _feel_ how Dean shivers. Any rustle is covered by the sound of his sigh. “Hate to say it, Cas, but it kinda feels like it _is_ because of... that.”

“It’s _not_.” Castiel shuffles even closer until he’s right up against Dean's back and can hug him tightly. “I don’t - I’m _sorry_. I didn’t mean to – It _really_ isn’t because of what happened. That doesn’t bother me.” What bothers him is his own feelings and how he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship. “It’s _not_ because of _you_.”

Dean is quiet for a while before he looks back over his shoulder slightly. “So, this is a pity spoon?” He sounds about as confused as Castiel feels.

Pity spoon?

_Oh_! It clicks and Castiel simultaneously pales and blushes at the same time.

They really are spooning, aren’t they? He meant for this to be a comforting hug, but – Well there’s not really a whole lot f space between them, is there? God, he can practically _feel_ Dean’s heartbeat through the back of his shirt.

“Uh.”

Dean sighs and turns away again. “You don’t have to do this, Cas.”

No, no, _no_.

Castiel clears his throat and counts to himself until he can relax. His own heart is hammering in his chest and he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean could feel it too. But he doesn’t move.

“It’s - I’m -” He breathes deep through his nose and out through his mouth, making Dean shiver all over again. “Is this okay? I could – I can go?”

Dean doesn’t say anything for a long time after that. Should he move? Should he just count himself to sleep? This really isn’t where he thought he would be tonight; not even after Anna poorly manipulated them into sharing a bed.

But then Dean is covering his hand again and pulls it tighter across his chest. “No.” He sighs and shifts back into Castiel’s chest; actually snuggling closer. “This is okay. This is nice.”

Okay. Okay, yes. It’s nice. Very nice. Nicer than he cares to admit.

It does, however, take him way too long to actually relax. Thankfully, he eventually manages to count himself down until he can actually think over the sound of his heartbeat.

It’s his birthday; the one day of the year where Castiel allows himself to be selfish. If being selfish involves spooning Dean, then so be it. This can be a birthday gift to himself. He just won’t think about it. He is, however, going to _keep_ counting himself to sleep. If he doesn’t do that, he might not be able to get to sleep without it.

“G-goodnight, Dean.”

“G’night, Cas.” The squeeze to his hand makes his heart flutter all over again. “Happy Birthday.”

It _has _been a happy birthday, hasn’t it?

Yes. It’s been a _great one_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Wednesday – September 19th, 2018_ **

Something is very different about this morning and it takes Castiel a little too long to figure out that it’s because there’s a heartbeat under his ear. Even when he figures that out, he can’t bring himself to open his eyes. Someone is carding fingers through his feathers, pausing every so often to scratch. It feels obscenely good and he can’t help but groan when they find a good spot.

Castiel’s groan ends in a happy hum and he stretches out along a solid line of heat. He imagines this is what it would be like to sleep with a heated blanket at night – which is an expense he’s never been able to talk himself into. But this? Oh this is nice. He snuggles closer to the soft warmth, turning his face into it and – Wait.

Did the heat just chuckle?

Yes, yes it did. That is definitely a laugh rumbling under his ear and Castiel is _very _confused by it – for all of a few seconds before his brain wakes up enough to kindly remind him that he didn’t go to bed alone last night.

Slowly, Castiel lifts his head and blinks at Dean.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Dean grins down at him, looking comfortable with half the pillows on the bed surrounding him.

He blinks again. Yes, that is definitely Dean. But – What?

“Dean?”

“Yup.”

Castiel makes a soft, confused noise. “You’re –” Cuddling with me? “– really comfortable.”

Dean hums and Castiel can feel it rumble in his chest. “You’d be the first to think that.”

Well, that makes no sense. He puts his head down slowly, staring at the wall as he tries to wrap his head around what’s happening. It doesn’t escape his notice that Dean goes right back to petting his wings, or that his heartbeat picks up pace under his ear. If he concentrates, he might even be able to pick out the moment when it skips a beat.

They lie in silence for a while longer before Castiel broaches the matter at hand. “I spooned you.”

“Sure did.” Dean nods, his chin brushing the wild mess of hair on Castiel’s head. “All night.”

Oh.

He honestly doesn’t know what to think about this situation or how to feel. Not only did he spoon Dean to sleep last night, but they’re still cuddling now in the morning. There’s definitely no denying that this happened. The question, though, is _what now_? Are they going to talk about this? If they do, what’s there to talk about exactly? Did Castiel just put their friendship at risk by trying to _not_ ruin their friendship?

_Shit_.

With some difficulty, he tries not to let this freak him out. Castiel closes his eyes and forces his breathing to stay regular while he counts in his head to keep calm. He can deal with this when they get up and –

Dean interrupts his thoughts by clearing his throat. “So, are you going to let me up any time soon? I’d like to go make us some breakfast.”

Oh _God_. In the midst of trying not to freak out, Castiel didn’t really consider the fact that he’s _still cuddling Dean_.

He jerks back, scrambling to the other side of the bed and taking all the blankets with him. “Sorry!”

“For what?” Dean sits up and stretches his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a strip of stomach that Castiel very much _does not look at_. “I got down in the dumps and you wanted to make me feel better, so we cuddled. Ain’t nothing to it.” He pauses, arms dropping. “Except the part where we bummed you out on your birthday. That sucked.”

Castiel shakes his head. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“It’s –”

“It’s _Anna’s_ fault.” He interrupts; gathering the blankets to his chest. “And mine. She was being a brat and I was being stubborn. I hurt your feelings when I didn’t intend to.”

Dean tilts his head to look Castiel over, and finishes with a lopsided smile. It’s cuter than it has any right being. “It’s fine, Cas. You literally cuddled me all night. Feel free to hurt my feelings more often if that’s how you want to make it up to me.”

With that, Dean gets up on his knees and yanks the curtains open to fill the room with sunlight. “Now, how about that breakfast?”

All he can do is nod and stay where he is. He watches as Dean slides off the bed, stretches again, and heads out into the hall. At least he has the courtesy to close the door behind himself. Castiel waits until he’s heard the door to the bathroom close, certain that Dean isn’t going to come back, before he collapses sideways. He pulls the blanket over his head and groans quietly because that, honest to God, actually _happened._

Castiel stays like that long after the pipes have rattled with the flush of the toilet and the sound of Dean heading down the hall to the kitchen. His desire to face the day is in the negatives because he just _knows _that Anna is going to be smug and unbearable. And they need to have a very serious talk about how what she pulled last night was _not _acceptable. Just because she thinks it would be cute for him and Dean to be together doesn’t mean that she has any right to try and force it.

Almost as if thinking about her summons her, the bed dips suddenly under a new weight. Castiel knows who it is without looking, but he still pulls the blanket out of the way to find Anna kneeling in the middle of his bed in her tank top and boy shorts and hair a mess.

“So?” She leans forward, eyes bright. “How did it go? Did you admit your undying love for him and –” She cuts off with a squeak as Cas makes a grab for her.

“I’m going to _kill _you!” He hisses, sitting up and trying to grab her again. Maybe she won’t interfere so much with his life if he smothered her with one of his pillows for a little while.

“Oh, come on!” Anna jumps off the bed to stay out of his reach. “I was trying to _help you_.”

Castiel is on his knees now and he spreads his wings angrily, feathers fluffing to make his wings look even bigger. “You nearly _ruined everything_.” He very nearly growls the words. “I was so focused on you being an _asshole_ that I didn’t realize that being so adamant about _not_ sleeping with Dean _hurt his feelings_. He was _upset_ when we went to bed.”

Anna’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ as she finally understands why he’s upset. It falls into a wince almost immediately. “Crap. I was just trying to –”

“I _know_ what you were trying to do, but you stepped _way_ out of line while trying to do it.” Castiel is on his feet now, the added height of the bed letting him tower over Anna. “I _told you_ that I don’t want to pursue anything with Dean. I don’t want to risk my relationship with the Winchesters. Their friendship is more important to me than any potential romance.”

He steps across the bed until he can hop down to stand in front of her. “If you _ever_ pull anything like you did last night again, I will _never_ forgive you.” And Castiel puts every ounce of seriousness he can into his voice. She needs to know that anything like that will not be tolerated again.

“I’m sorry.” Anna ducks her head and looks away. “I got really excited about your first crush and I just – I want you to be happy.” Her arms come up to hug herself. “You two are really cute together, and I –”

“I _am_ happy with how things are.” Castiel crosses his arms and continues to frown. Her little pout isn’t going to deter him from making sure she actually _gets it_. “Your meddling makes me _unhappy_.”

Anna holds up one hand with only three fingers raised. “Girl Scouts honour. I won’t meddle anymore.” She looks up at him, eyes wide and sad. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel can’t even find it in himself to point out that she’s never been a member of the Girl Scouts of America. He also can’t stay mad at her when she looks like she’s about to cry. With a sigh, he sags in place and his wings fold flat again. “Fine.”

When she continues to look at him like that, her bottom lip even trembling slightly, Castiel covers her face with his hand. “Stop looking at me like that.”

She brushes his hand aside and steps into him for a hug, her forehead against his chest. Castiel sighs again and hugs her lightly. “Yes, yes. You’re forgiven.”

Anna squeezes him tightly and muffles a sniffle against his chest. She’s never liked having anyone angry at her, let alone him. He sighs again, louder this time, and rests his chin on the top of her head. “It’s fine._ We’re_ fine – as long as you don’t pull something like that again.”

With a huff, he blows the bangs off his forehead, noting that they’re getting too long and he’s going to need Aunt Amara to give him a haircut soon.

“Is he mad at you?”

“No.” Castiel presses his lips together and takes a moment to weigh the pros and cons of telling her the truth of what happened. If he doesn’t say anything, Dean might, and Anna will never let him live it down if he keeps this from her. He sighs, prepared for the worst. “I felt bad for hurting his feelings and ended up spooning him in apology.”

Her head pops up so quickly that it cracks against his chin. They both hiss in pain and pull away from one another, Castiel holding his chin and Anna holding the top of her head. She doesn’t seem to be in much pain, though. Instead, she’s staring at him with wide eyes.

“You. Were. _Spooning_?”

Castiel nods, rubbing his chin and hoping a bruise doesn’t form. “All night.”

Her jaw drops. “_What_!?”

He looks away, finding it hard to meet her eyes when she looks _that_ excited. “And I woke up still cuddling him.”

To his horror, Anna flaps her hands around her face and makes a high-pitched squeal. “Oh my _God_!”

“Do _not_ make a big deal of this!” Castiel shushes her and glances towards the door. The last thing he needs is for Dean to walk in on this.

Anna shakes her head and practically bounces in place, hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Of _course_ I’m going to make a big deal of this!” She’s whisper-yelling and that’s still too loud for his liking.

Castiel grabs her by the shoulders and gives her a little shake. “What did we _just_ talk about?”

She covers her mouth, but her eyes are big and bright. Even still, she’s practically vibrating in place and Castiel sighs, grim in the knowledge that this conversation is definitely not over. Despite that, he still points at the closet, of which the back wall is shared with the closet of the spare bedroom. “Go back to your room.”

When she drops her hands, it’s to reveal a huge grin. Anna opens her mouth, but Castiel gives her a warning look and shakes his head. “_Go_. And if you say _anything_ about this again, I will _end you_.”

Anna bites her lip and bounces in place, likely weighing the odds that he’s not lying. She must decide that he isn’t, because she vanishes between one blink and the next. Finally alone, Castiel groans and runs his hands over his face. He sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed and tries to ignore the building itch in one of his wings.

It twitches a few times before he lifts his arm and folds the wing under it. He digs his fingers into the feathers to scratch, and it says a lot about his morning that this is the least irritating thing to happen to him so far. God, and he hasn’t even had coffee yet. That is a _tragedy_. It’s unnatural. He should never have to deal with this much before his first coffee of the day.

He lifts his head to stare at himself in the mirror, watching the reflection of his hands as he rhythmically runs his fingers through his feathers.

Despite everything else, it was nice to cuddle Dean. He really is comfortable. _Super_ comfortable, so warm, and he smelled _so good_. Castiel absolutely would not mind doing that again, but he’s not sure if that would be a good idea. Dean likes him in some way, and cuddling to sleep every night would just lead him on. And he doesn’t have the heart to do that to his best friend.

A knock at the door breaks him from his thoughts. He glances away from the mirror. “Come in.”

Dean opens the door and peeks in. “Hey, I made you coffee.” And, sure enough, there’s a mug of nirvana in his hand when he steps into the room.

Castiel’s chest pulls tight and his heart thumps a little harder than it did before. He smiles softly and reaches out for the mug. “Thank you.” Dean hands it off and waits for him to take the first, tentative sip. He sighs happily and can feel the tension seep from his bones at that first taste. “It’s perfect.”

“Great!” Dean grins and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to get breakfast started soon. Feel free to go back to sleep or something. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

“It’s fine.” He stands up and rolls his shoulders, shaking out his wings in the process. “I can come help.”

The bright smile that earns him is brighter than the sunlight coming through the window. “Awesome!”

That smile makes Castiel feel warm and fuzzy from head to toe; his feather shivering as he tucks his wings tight against his back. He looks away, catching sight of Dean’s side of the bed in the mirror again. Should he –? No, probably not. But he’s going to because he’s _weak_.

Castiel bites his bottom lip and clears his throat. “You can sleep here for the rest of your visit.”

Dean raises an eyebrow and glances at the bed too. The other eyebrow goes up as he looks back to Castiel again. “Seriously?”

He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee again, trying not to let his face heat up on the scrutiny. “If you want to.”

“Yeah, of course!” Dean flushes and shrugs. “I mean – Yeah, sure. Thanks, Cas.”

“That way, Sam can have the guest room and no one has to worry about sleeping on the couch.” Castiel knows that it’s not very comfortable for either Winchester. It’s not long enough for anyone except maybe Anna to stretch out properly on.

“I’m sure Sammy will appreciate it.”

Dean has the _biggest_ smile on his face. It’s radiant and Castiel is suddenly short of breath. He swallows his coffee around a lump in his throat.

“C’mon, let’s go make breakfast.” Dean gestures for him to follow as he heads out of the room again. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry as hell.”

Castiel nods and shuffles after him.

Anna is going to have a _field day_ with this when she finds out.

*

** _Monday – September 24th, 2018_ **

With his legs crossed under him, Castiel rests his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He watches, partially bored and partially on edge, as Dean packs up his bag in front of him on the end of the bed. A stack of clean laundry is next to it and Dean sorts through it to put things away in his duffle in some specific order that Castiel doesn’t quite follow.

His wings twitch against his back, itching like crazy, and he does his best to ignore it. On top of that nightmare, he’s also started shedding. Proof to that is the small black feather poking out from the folds of one of Dean’s t-shirts. Castiel sighs and plucks it free.

“Y’know, I wouldn’t mind more feathers.” Dean eyes it as Castiel twirls it between his fingers.

“No.” With that, he crumples it into a mangled mess. “You already have enough feathers.” To lend weight to his point, he reaches out to flick at the feather hanging over the neckline of the _Deadpool_ sweater that Dean is currently wearing.

Dean sticks his tongue out at him before returning to packing.

Once all the clothing and various knick knacks are packed away, the last thing to go into his duffle is the toiletries bag. He’s left just enough space for it, and he zips the duffle bag closed. It’s not exactly bursting at the seams, but Dean definitely knows how to roll and tuck every article of clothing into the smallest possible shape to get it all to fit.

“Are you going back to Sioux Falls first?”

“Sorta, but not really.” Dean shrugs and hefts the bag up onto his shoulder. “There’s a hunt in Nebraska that Sammy snapped up last night. It should be nice and quick, and then we’ll head to Bobby’s. He’s got a new car with an engine he wants me to look at, just to see if it needs to be replaced completely or if we can restore it with a few new parts. The rest he’ll do on his own.”

Castiel scoots to the edge of the bed and drops his feet to the floor. “That’s – uh – that’s interesting.” He glances through the open door, through which he can see across the hall to the closed door of his office.

In the other room, Anna and Sam are chatting about something indistinct. If he listened closer, he could probably hear what they’re saying, but the nervous butterflies in his stomach are very distracting. He hasn’t actually talked to either Winchester about this, but there’s a very good reason for why he called Anna over this morning – and it’s not just because she likes being here to see them off.

“Hey, hey.” Dean snaps his fingers in front of Castiel’s face to get his attention. “What’s got your feathers in a bunch? You’ve been kinda spacey and twitchy all morning.”

“My – um – my wings itch.” Castiel shrugs and stands up. He shakes his wings out and frowns at the two feathers that come loose and flutter to the floor. “Ugh.”

Dean eyes the feathers and Castiel quickly picks them up before he can. “You, sir, have a serious problem.” He shakes the feathers at him before taking them and the one from the bed to the garbage can in the bathroom.

“I do _not_.”

“Problem with what?” Anna calls out from the hallway. She pokes her head into the room. “Are we finally having the intervention about his addiction to your feathers?”

Dean crosses his arms defensively. “I do _not_ have an addiction!”

The look Castiel gives him must not be the one that he was expecting. Dean throws his arms in the air with a huff and all but storms out of the room, brushing past Anna on his way out. “Sammy! You ready?”

“Yeah.” Sam answers from the other room. Castiel glances in as he follows Dean out of the hall to see Sam zipping his bag closed. He glances up and smiles at him. “Oh, Cas! I already threw the bedding in the laundry. It should be done soon.”

Anna pulls out her phone and fiddles with it as she trudges down the hall too. “I’ll set an alarm so I remember to change it over and put them away.”

Castiel pauses to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “Thank you.”

That makes Dean pause and he turns, shuffling backwards. “You’re not going to take care of the laundry yourself? Normally that’s your gig.”

“About that…” Castiel stops at his office door and fidgets slightly with the hem of his shirt.

Of course Dean stops where he is, eyebrow raised curiously. Sam joins him, squeezing past both Anna and Castiel. They look at him expectantly and he coughs awkwardly, fidgeting for another few moments until Anna elbows him sharply in the side.

“Okay!” He straightens his shoulders and opens the door to his office. There, in the middle of the room, is his packed luggage. Both Dean and Sam have to come forward again to see it. “I know it’s last minute, but if you don’t mind some company…” Oh! But now they’re going on a hunt. “I promise I’ll stay in the car or the motel during the hunt. If that’s okay?”

Sam looks to Dean. He assesses the bright smile before turning back to Castiel. “Of course it’s okay.”

“You sure?” Castiel tugs at the hem of his shirt. “I don’t want to be a bother, and it hasn’t been that long since the last time I went with you, and –”

“It’s fine!” Dean is already pulling his phone out. “I’ll text Bobby right now to let him know you’re coming with us. They’ll be happy to see you again, and you can get more training on the obstacle course and in the gun range. If we get you up to snuff, you could even come hunting with us regularly if you wanted to, and –”

Sam rolls his eyes and gives Dean a shove to get him going down the hall again. “And you’re _really _getting ahead of yourself.”

“I’m just _excited_!”

It’s a long-suffering look that Sam gives both Anna and Castiel, but it only lasts a moment before he’s smiling again. “We would love to have you along, Cas. Grab your bags and bring them to the door. I’ll put them in the car for you.”

Dean snaps his fingers and turns at the top of the stairs. He points at Anna. “Ah-hah! So _that’s_ why you’re here!”

“Or, y’know, you guys are my friends and I wanted to see you off?” She crosses her arms, eyebrows raised to _dare_ him to suggest otherwise – even though it’s at least half the reason that Castiel asked her to be here.

“Yeah, that too. Sure.” Dean flaps a hand and heads down the stairs to the landing where he drops his bag. “Hey, Sammy. Can you get the airbrushing kit and finish loading up? Oh, and Cas, do you still have your ID?”

“It’s in my wallet.”

Castiel grabs his bags and follows. Instead of leaving them for Sam to put away, which doesn’t seem fair, he brings them out to the car himself. Sam passes him the airbrushing kit to bring back inside, where he finds one of his nightmares.

Anna and Dean. Talking to each other. _Alone_. And Dean is frowning. Oh God, _why_ is he frowning?

“What’s wrong?”

Dean glances at him, eyes narrowed in thought. “Anna just brought up a good point.” He eyes Castiel’s wings critically, especially as one of them trembles a little with an itch. “Are you sure you want to do any travelling while you’re molting?”

Ah, yes. Castiel thought something like that would come up eventually. It’s a well-known fact that during his molting season, he won’t even go to the grocery store. The only difference this time around is that he just spent nearly a whole week sharing a bed with Dean, and on more than one morning they woke up much closer than when they went to sleep. And the worst thing is that it was _both of them_ who would move during their sleep. Tossing and turning across the bed until they were close enough to touch – but not touching.

It was _so painful_.

They didn’t spoon or cuddle again, but Castiel wanted to. He really, _really_ wanted to. Like, a lot. Dean just smells _so good_ and he just radiates warmth all the time. He’s addicted to the heat. And it is just _so_ unfair how comfortable Dean is to hold. Castiel is just itching to do it again.

All of that has just compounded and he is just _really_ not ready to see the Winchesters off again. It’s the same as every time they left before, and yet… it’s _not_. He wants to go with them for the same reason that he went with them the first time. Castiel likes spending time with the Winchesters, but perhaps he likes it _too_ much. This is starting to be a real problem.

He takes a deep breath and tucks his wings tight against his back. “I know.” With a shrug, he walks past them. “But I still want to go.” He looks over his shoulders as he starts up the stairs. “Are you going to come tattoo me again, or not?”

“Oh, I have _gotta_ see this.” Anna blinks into place next to him, looking almost as excited as she had been the morning of the _cuddling incident_.

Dean’s laughter echoes through the house as he follows after them and Castiel can feel that laugh in his damn _bones_.

Maybe spending more time with them right now isn’t such a good idea after all. And yet, that isn’t enough to stop him.

*

The ride to _Lincoln, Nebraska_ isn’t as bad as Castiel thought it would be. Rather than being concerned about leaving his home again, he spends most of the drive squirming in the back seat because his wings are itching _so much_ and there is only so much scratching that can be done. It’s the whole reason why he’s wearing an altered t-shirt and isn’t wearing his coat. His wings are on full display for anyone driving past to see and he’s too itchy to really care.

Well, he _does_ turn out to care once they reach the motel. He elects to stay in the car while Dean and Sam head into the motel office together to get a room. Singular. _One _room. Because Castiel can’t stand to think about being alone in his own room in a strange town. He also can’t bring himself to go in with them to get the room while his wings are out.

Instead, Castiel stays hunched over in the backseat with his wings drooped as low as he can get them to stay out of sight. He keeps his eyes firmly focused on the ground, because if he looks around and actually notices people, he’s going to freak himself right into a panic attack and those are _so_ last year. It’s been almost a year since he started stepping outside of his comfort zone and he hates that he’s not in a place where he can be _okay_ with this now.

But here he is, counting to himself like it’s day one again. Although, it can be considered somewhat of an improvement that he at least has his wings out. They haven’t been out anywhere except home and Bobby’s compound, so he can at least be proud of himself for that. And he hasn’t freaked out yet! That’s good too.

Great, there _are _silver linings and he just needs to focus on those instead of literally anything else.

On the plus side, Sam spent the ride here researching mutant-friendly motels. Supposedly this one is welcoming. Even so, Castiel couldn’t make himself go stand in the lobby with his wings out around other people. If he did, he’d _definitely_ have an anxiety attack. Just sitting in the car is pushing it, but it’s better than nothing and that’s something.

_Positives_. Think of the _positives_.

A knock at the window has him jump in place and nearly cough out his own heart. Dean waves at him from the other side of the door, grinning because he knows _exactly _what he did. He slips into the driver’s seat and Sam gets in on the other side. “We got a room.”

“That’s great.” Castiel reaches out to slap Dean on the shoulder. “And that _wasn’t_ funny.”

“It was pretty funny.” Dean grins at him in the rear-view mirror.

Their room ends up being on the far end of the building – tucked away at the back of the parking lot. It’s perfect and Castiel waits until Sam is holding the door to the room open before getting out of the car. He all but sprints the short distance from the back seat and past the threshold of the room. The moment he’s safe from prying eyes, he collapses on the nearest bed.

An unknown bed that others have definitely slept in might, under other circumstances, make him uncomfortable. This time, however, he can let that pass. He’s perfectly content to lie face down and take deep breaths to try and stop his heart from pounding as hard as it is. Part of him does feel bad for leaving it to Dean and Sam to bring in all their bags, but he knows they’ll understand.

The bed dips next to him and gentle fingers slip through his feathers, raking through the itches he was trying to ignore. Castiel knows that it’s Dean without having to look, because Sam has never touched his wings. Heck, he’s never even _asked_ to touch them. He sighs happily and slowly relaxes into a puddle as Dean keeps scratching.

“So.” Dean starts after a few minutes. “You feeling better there, bud?”

All Castiel can do is hum in response.

“That’s great, because Sam and I have gotta head out and go interview some people.” Those clever fingers move into the down at the base of his wings, stroking the space between them. “We need to meet up with the local police and let them know we’re here and everything. D’you think you’ll be okay alone here?”

“I can put the _do not disturb_ sign on the door handle.” Sam clears his throat, clearly trying to be helpful.

“I appreciate it, thank you.” Castiel pushes himself up until he can kneel on the bed, though he regrets it when it means Dean stops touching his wings. “And I’ll be fine. I think I’ll take a long shower and soak my wings while you’re gone.”

That sounds like an excellent plan. With the Winchester gone, Castiel can hog the only bathroom in their room and not run the risk of Dean or Sam having to awkwardly ask him to let them pee while he’s on the other side of the curtain from them. Their friendship has, thankfully, never had to go through that. Yet.

“Awesome.” Dean stands up and ruffles Castiel’s hair. He pauses, glances at Sam where he’s waiting by the door, and then dips down to kiss the top of Castiel’s head. “You relax here and we’ll be back in a few hours. I’ll call you when we’re on our way back, and we’ll bring supper.”

Any thought about Castiel’s panic is gone in an instant. His hand twitches up to touch the space Dean kissed; his face growing hot. “Okay.”

“Great!” Dean turns on his heel and speed-walks to the door. “Bye, Cas! C’mon, Sammy.”

Sam has his lips pressed together in a smile, as if he’s trying not to laugh. He gives a jaunty wave before backing out the door. “See ya, Cas.”

Castiel drops his hand to wave lightly, and he continues waving even after the door is closed. Sam locks it from the other side and there’s a bit of noise as he affixes the _do not disturb_ sign on the handle. In addition to waving at nothing in particular, Castiel also stares at the door and blinks at it – for far too long to be considered acceptable.

Eventually, he does manage to get himself up and off the bed. He even stops waving, which is an improvement, certainly. He sits on the edge of the tub and stares at the tap instead of actually pulling it. His hand comes up to touch the top of his head again, rubbing lightly. It’s almost as if he can still feel Dean’s kiss there.

He doesn’t realize that he’s smiling until he’s standing up again, the water running the tub, and catches sight of himself in the mirror.

*

** _Wednesday – September 26th, 2018_ **

Oh, this was a _very bad idea_.

Castiel never should have come on this hunt with them. He is trying _very hard_ not to react outwardly, but he definitely has chills playing hopscotch on his spine while watching Dean check his guns. It’s never something he thought he would find attractive, but he does and he _hates it_. There’s just something oddly arousing about how serious and competent Dean is right now as he quickly and efficiently takes the tranquilizer guns apart to clean them.

For his own sake, he’s done his best to _not_ look. But it’s very, very hard. Dean is taking up the whole bed that is in Castiel’s direct line of sight. He’s been pretending not to watch, but it’s not working very well. There’s a recording playing in his ears that he’s supposed to be transcribing and he’s definitely not doing that because Dean is sitting cross-legged with the pieces of their guns spread out before him in neat, orderly lines while he cleans them and puts them together again.

Sam is set up similarly on the other bed, but he’s filling feathered darts with tranquilizer. That’s rather intimidating but it’s not having nearly the same effect on Castiel as Dean is.

Maybe he should be thankful for it? Dean being so damn distracting has helped to keep his mind off how itchy his wings are. He’s lost a half dozen feathers today alone, and one of them was even a large primary that fell out while Dean and Sam were out picking up their lunch. The loss of the primary has left an empty space between two feathers with nothing but the tip of the new one peeking out from under the secondaries. He thinks it looks dumb and he’s kept his wings perfectly folded so neither of the Winchesters will notice.

The feather in question was destroyed immediately with a pair of scissors and buried at the bottom of the garbage can. Castiel doesn’t even want to think about what Dean might do to try and get one of those – or what he would even do with one. It’s obnoxiously big – practically the length of Castiel’s leg – and he can’t imagine what Dean would even do with it.

Something beeps loudly in his ear and he flinches at it. _Shit_. He curses under his breath because the recording is over and he hasn’t even transcribed half of it. At this point, he basically has to start over and he glowers at his laptop as he rewinds the recording. He stops to listen every few moments to try and find where he left off when Dean distracted him and – Why is Dean standing up?

Oh holy God.

“Is that a _thigh holster_?”

Any chance of him returning to work has gone out the window. Castiel turns in his seat to stare, open mouthed, as Dean straps the holster into place on his right thigh. Is it suddenly hot in here or is it just Castiel because he feels like he might be dying?

Dean flashes him a grin, eyebrows raised as he puts one of the guns in the holster. He tests pulling it out, frowns, and adjusts the straps a little higher. He yanks the gun out again, nods in satisfaction, and puts the gun down in front of Sam.

“Load ‘er up and let’s get this show on the road.”

Sam rolls his eyes and gives Castiel a flat look. He sighs and pops the top off the gun to drop a dart into the chamber. Dean places the other three guns down in front of him too and he ends up filling them all. The rest of the darts he slides into little holders.

Castiel is struck dumb, watching them clean up. Sam puts a thigh holster on too, and it just proves that what Castiel feels for Dean is _entirely _different. He’s completely unaffected watching Sam load up, and his gaze keeps slipping back to the straps hugging Dean’s thigh.

Dear God, is his mouth watering?

_What is happening to him?_

Oh no. Oh God. Why is Dean putting _another_ holster on?

This one is a shoulder holster that he hides beneath a red leather jacket. Castiel both loves and hates it. He takes three guns – one in the thigh holster and two in the shoulder holsters. The fourth gun, Sam takes. The spare darts get clipped to their belts. It’s a bit confusing at first, and Castiel is about to question why Dean gets more guns, and then it hits him. Sam has more in an _unseen _arsenal – his pyrokinesis and telekinesis.

He licks his lips and forces himself to look Dean in the eye, hoping he doesn’t look as blown away as he feels. “Are – Are you – uh – Are you leaving now?”

“Yup.” Dean grabs a duffle bag off the floor to put it on the bed. “We tracked her down to the warehouse district.”

“I wasn’t aware _Lincoln, Nebraska_ has a warehouse _district_.”

“It’s a handful of buildings.” Sam picks up the slack of explaining while Dean sorts through the duffle for God-knows-what. “She’s in one of them and we’re going to find her.”

Castiel bites his lip. “Is she dangerous?”

He takes his headphones off, knowing that he’s not going to return to work anytime soon. He’s too worried. The Winchesters haven’t really spoken much about their hunt. All he knows is that they’ve been going around talking to people associated with their target, and they drive around to see if Sam’s empathy radar can pick up on her presence.

“In a sense. She’s a class three.” Sam lifts part of Dean’s coat out of the way to clip an extra pack of darts to his belt. “She skipped her last evaluation and now we have to find her.”

“What’s her mutation?” Castiel fists his hand on his knees to keep them from shaking. He’s liking this whole thing less and less and it was a _horrible_ idea for him to come along too.

“Reptilian.” Dean looks up, eyes bright with excitement. “Like, full body. She’s got scales, a tail, can climb walls, and apparently has a slight camouflage ability.”

Castiel frowns, mulling it over. “That sounds like she wouldn’t be more than a class two.”

“She was, but her mutation evolved.” Sam turns a grim look on him. “Venomous saliva. She lied about it during her last few evaluations. They reclassified her once an anonymous tip came in about it.”

“If that wasn’t enough to have the authorities after her, then the B&E’s she’s been using her abilities to pull off definitely did.” Dean sighs as he zips the duffle back up again. “They caught her on video hitting apartments on top floors – getting the people who wouldn’t expect to be broken in to and might leave their windows unlocked or even open while they’re out and about.”

Oh, so she’s actually a criminal. Castiel doesn’t feel so bad about a mutant being hunted now that he knows that. He still doesn’t feel good about this hunt and he shifts in his seat, work thoroughly abandoned.

“Why hasn’t she left town?”

“Family.” Dean claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Or so said her family when we interviewed them.” He pauses and looks at Castiel. “They want her caught too. They were willing to keep her venom a secret, but she was hiding her more criminal activities from them and that’s apparently the straw that broke the camel’s back where they’re concerned.”

Castiel can’t even begin to put himself in their position. If it was Anna who was using her teleporting abilities to break into people’s homes, would he want her arrest too? No, he couldn’t bear the thought. Mutants don’t get to go to normal jail. She would be carted off to _The Facility_ as soon as she was caught. He feels bad for the mutant they’re hunting tonight, but there must be more about her family situation that he doesn’t know about to account for them turning on her like this.

Or, at least, he hopes.

“Alright, Sammy. We’ve got everything.” Dean shoulders the duffle bag and jerks a thumb towards the door. “You ready to go?”

“Yup.” Sam checks his watch before pulling on his coat. “I’m good.”

“Great.” Dean starts for the door. “I don’t know how long we’ll be, but I’ll give you a call before we’re on our way back.” He glances back at Castiel and gives him a thumbs up. “Wish us luck?”

That would be the normal thing to say, but instead what comes out of his mouth shocks both Castiel and the Winchesters; “I want to go too.”

Silence follows his statement for a few moments. Dean’s jaw drops at about the same time that Castiel’s does. Sam, however, sways on the spot. He winces and rubs at his temples. “Holy _shit_. Could you guys warn a guy before you do something like that? That amount of surprise hurts like a _bitch_.”

Dean closes his mouth, shares a look with Sam, looks back at Castiel, and repeats the process a few more times. “I – What? I don’t – I think – You shouldn’t – That’s –”

“What he’s trying to say is that you don’t have enough training to help us on this hunt.” Sam shifts his weight from foot to foot, and it’s his turn to look between Dean and Castiel. “You should at least pass the obstacle course and gun range on Bobby’s standards before we even think of actually letting you hunt with us.”

“Not to hunt!” Castiel shakes his head and stands up quickly. “I meant to just let me sit in the car. I would rather wait for you there and know you’re okay right away than sit here not knowing.”

He will actually go out of his mind with worry if he has to stay here twiddling his thumbs. No amount of work is going to be able to distract him from thinking about Dean or Sam getting bitten with _venom_. Can Dean’s rapid healing handle something like that? And what about if Sam gets bit? They might have to take him to the hospital, and then he’ll be revealed as an _unregistered_, and –

Oh God, he’s already starting to have an anxiety attack about this. Castiel should have realized that was going to happen, but he didn’t really think about it until _right now_.

As soon as his breathing goes sideways, each breath scraping through his lungs, Dean drops the duffle bag and crosses the room to him. He pulls Castiel into a tight hug, forcing his face against the side of his neck again. “Breathe, Cas.”

He grips the back of Dean’s jacket, digging his fingers in, and takes deep breaths. This isn’t what Dean and Sam need before leaving for a hunt and he needs to calm himself down _now_.

“It’s going to be fine, Cas.” Dean strokes between his wings, voice a soothing rumble.

“It would be _more _fine if I was _there_.” Castiel holds him tighter, pulling him closer.

Sam clears his throat. It’s soft, but it sounds so loud as Castiel’s senses keep climbing higher. He’s not calming down no matter how much breathing he’s doing, or how much counting, or –

“I don’t think it would be a problem to have Cas in the car, would it?”

Dean pauses in petting Castiel’s wings. He hums softly. “No, but –”

“Please?” Castiel lifts his head just enough that he can give Dean the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes that he can manage. Sam has said that they’re particularly effective with Dean. “_Please_? I’ll worry myself into an even worse panic attack if I have to wait for you here.”

“Fuck.” Dean hisses between his teeth before pressing his lips into a thin line. He looks between Castiel and Sam before sighing. “Fine. You can sit in the car.” He steps away and takes one of the guns from his shoulder holster. “But if you’re coming with us, you are _staying in the car_ and _only_ the car, and you’re going to be _armed_. Got it?”

Castiel nods several times and takes the gun. “Got it.” He sniffles slightly, not realizing how close he came to actual tears. “Should I just put it in my pocket?”

“Oh my God.” Dean sighs and shakes his head. “This has a safety too, so sure. Keep it in your pocket if you want to. Or, if you want to be more badass, you can put it in the back of your pants.”

Well, he’d certainly rather look badass in Dean’s eyes than sad and pathetic. Castiel turns and lifts his shirt enough that he can get to the back of his jeans. Thank God he actually put on _jeans_ today and isn’t wearing the sweatpants he spent all of yesterday in.

He’s seen plenty of movies to know what this is supposed to look like, and he tucks it barrel first into his pants. “Like this?”

“Yeah.” Dean snorts a laugh and tugs his shirt back down for him. “Yeah, like that.”

“Okay, you ready?” Sam knocks against the door to get their attention.

“Just – just a moment.” Castiel goes back to the table that he’s taken over as his desk. He saves his files before closing the laptop and vows to actually finish that recording later tonight. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

On the way out after them, he grabs his coat and pulls it on over his wings. In light of the time crunch, he’ll have to forgo the binder and altered t-shirt. Normally that would make him uncomfortable, but it’s not like they’re going shopping or something. Castiel will be sitting in the back of the car and trying not to be sick over Dean and Sam picking through warehouses looking for a dangerous fugitive. His wings are the last thing for him to worry about right now.

Still. _Lord have mercy_.

It’s not until he’s in the back seat again that he starts to question if this is a good idea. No, no. He has to go or he’s going to go mad waiting in that motel room. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to fidget like crazy for the whole drive to the so-called _warehouse district_.

Once they get there, it turns out it’s just a cluster of long, low buildings with truck dogs. There are even a few semi-trucks parked in front of a couple docks, standing ready to head out in the morning. Castiel has no idea what could be inside any of these buildings, but it’s eerie to be here in the late evening with the sun almost set and the dim streetlights casting pools of light around the – Would this even be considered a compound?

Either way, it’s unnerving and Castiel does _not_ like the heavy weight sitting in his stomach.

“I’m going to park us right here.” Dean pulls right into the middle of the cluster of buildings. They all seem to face the lot. “You can see all the building entrances from here, right?”

Castiel leans back and forth, eyeing up the area. “Yes?”

“Great. I’m sure there are back ways out, but Sammy and I will handle it.” Dean gestures at Sam to pass him something. Sam must understand it, because he rifles through the duffle bag on his lap before handing it over. “Here. This is for you.”

He turns and holds the something out and Castiel takes the walkie-talkie. Sam has two others in hand and he pushes the button on it a few times. The other two walkie-talkies click with the sound; little pulses of radio silence-static.

“You stay in the car.” There’s zero hint of levity in Dean’s expression. “If you see anything that _isn’t_ me or Sam, you click that button three times. One or both of us will be out here as quick as we can. You’re more important to us than completing this hunt, okay?”

Castiel swallows around the lump that rises in his throat. “Okay.”

“Promise me you won’t leave the car.”

Sam turns too, and he looks just as serious. Castiel looks between the both of them before nodding. “I promise I won’t leave the car.”

But there’s still a few moments of stony silence before Dean nods. Castiel has never seen either of them so serious before and - Is this _business-mode _for the Winchesters? He would be intrigued if he wasn’t just a little bit intimidated by it. The very air in the car has changed.

“Okay.” Dean nods once and gets out of the car. That’s all he says and he shuts the door after him.

Sam gets out too, but before he shuts the door, he leans down to give Castiel a small smile. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Stay safe.”

With that, Castiel is left alone. He chews his bottom lip and watches as the Winchesters cross the lot to the first building. How long will it take to sweep through it? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Can’t Sam just stand in front of the building and sense if there are emotions in the building or not? Or are there workers inside that might throw that off? A place like this must have security personnel, right? Does his empathy even work like that?

The questions help distract him for the first ten minutes. It’s around then when the walkie-talkie crackles to life and nearly gives him a heart attack.

“_This building is clear. We’re heading out the backway to go into the next one. Let us know if anyone comes out the front. Over_.”

Oh Lord, Dean is actually using radio lingo. Castiel can’t contain a small snort of laughter before he brings the walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Roger. All clear out here. Over and out.” He imagines that they’ll probably get a kick out of that on the other end.

Sometime after they enter building two, Castiel notices the fire escape against the side of the first building. From where he’s sitting, it looks like each building might have one. They appear to go all the way to the roof and that brings up a number of questions. If it goes to the roof, does that mean that there’s roof access from _within_ the building? And didn’t they say that the target could climb walls? What if she camps out on a roof or tries to escape through there?

Castiel would be no help to them if she escapes by a roof. And as much as he promised Dean that he would stay in the car, he’d also really like to be of some kind of help on this hunt. He’s a look out, right? What if he were to look out from a rooftop?

No, he shouldn’t. He promised Dean that he would stay in the car. The last thing Castiel wants to do is break that trust. Their friendship is already rocky enough right now with the whole – Well, _everything_. They’re still sharing a bed and last night Castiel had covered Dean with a wing in his sleep. The bed here is much smaller than the King-size mattress at his house and he’s close enough to feel Dean’s heat even when they’re not touching.

It’s a bad idea to leave the car, but now that the idea is in his head, he can’t shake it. Castiel mulls it over until the Winchesters finish with the second building. He sees them come out the front and even waves at them as they cross the alley between buildings to head into number three.

What are the chances that he takes up a post on the roof and manages to get back to the car before they’re done? Can they even see him from the buildings? The Impala doesn’t have tinted windows, but it’s not like Dean parked in the light. In fact, the car is almost entirely in shadows where it sits outside the halo of light over each building entrance.

No, no. Stay in the car. That’s all Dean asked of him. He can do that.

But.

What if she escapes by the roof and he can’t see her from here? Look out is literally his _one job_ right now and he wants to be _useful_. It’s the only way he can make up for asking out of the blue to come on the hunt with them. The plan had always been for him to just stay at the motel, and here he is.

_Fuck_.

Castiel swears to himself as he shrugs out of his coat. He slides across the seat and opens the door. If he gets caught for this, he’s going to be in _so much trouble_. But he wants to be useful. He’ll just sit in the corner of the roof where he can see the rest of the buildings and their rooftops. That way, if she tries to escape from there, he can radio to Sam and Dean and then rush back to the car before they notice.

He shouldn’t do this. He _really_ shouldn’t do this.

They should almost be done with building three and Castiel decides to stake out on that rooftop. If they haven’t found her in there yet, then she’s probably not in that building. He should be safe to sit there and keep an eye on building four.

The fire escape isn’t much more than a ladder straight to the roof with just one landing at the windows that must mark some kind of second floor. He climbs as quietly as he can to the roof, and he draws the gun the moment his hands are free. It’s just a precaution. Better to be safe than sorry since he is literally risking more than just his neck by being up here.

From where he’s standing, it looks like the roof is fairly empty. There’s the door to inside, and nothing much else except ventilation exhausts and air conditioner units. It’s thankfully very empty of any other bodies, and when he glances around at the other buildings, their rooftops seem equally deserted. As far as he can see, there’s no one running around out there, no matter how long he looks.

Of course, none of that would matter if he already missed her.

Carefully, with the walkie-talkie held tightly in one hand and the gun in the other, he makes his way to the front of the building. From here, he can still see all the other entrances and it’s just as dead out there as it was when he was in the car. It’s quiet too; nothing but the distant sound of traffic and the loud pounding of Castiel’s pulse in his ears.

A gentle breeze ruffles his feathers and he tucks his wings tight against his back. He hunkers down in the corner, trying to make himself inconspicuous, just in case she looks out a window and sees someone where they shouldn’t be. From here, he can actually see down the alley between this building and the next one the Winchesters will be going through. He has a perfect view of everything from here. The only way he would miss her is if she went out a back door or a window and takes off down an alley.

From here, Castiel watches the Winchesters come out the back door of this building and head into the fourth. His walkie-talkie crackles with their update. It seems they’re only going to update him whenever they think they’re out of sight of the car. If he’s lucky, they’ll never know that he was up here.

He alternates watching the front door, the side door, and the roof door of building four. His finger rests on the walkie-talkie button and he thumbs the safety on the gun occasionally, never actually turning it off. It would be _really _stupid of him to accidentally fire it into the _ground _if gets startled by something like a stray cat. Not that there would be a stray cat up here – right?

Castiel isn’t actually expecting anything to happen, but then he hears the smooth sound of a window being opened and his blood runs cold. Either the Winchesters have caught him or – Oh God. He looks across the alley – which is really only a matter of five feet or so, and there she is.

Even after getting the description of their target, Castiel still isn’t prepared to see what equates to a giant human-shaped lizard crawling out of a window. She’s covered from head to toe in scales, without a hint of hair on her head. She’s the most non-Human looking mutant that he’s ever seen, despite the scaled, human-like face that turns toward him because _of course _Castiel had to gasp in surprise like the rookie he is.

He clicks the button on the walkie-talkie a half dozen times as too-big yellow eyes with slitted black pupils stare up at him. Then those eyes narrow at him and a long, forked tongue flicks between her pointed teeth as she bares them at him. They both stay frozen, staring at each other, for God knows how long – and then the walkie-talkie crackles to life.

“_Cas! We’re on our way!_”

With a hiss, she scurries up the side of the other building too fast for Castiel’s liking. She flips up over the lip of the other building and crouches on the edge. Castiel raises his gun, because Dean and Sam aren’t here and he can’t just let her get away. But the trigger won’t pull because the fucking _safety _is still on and _oh God she can JUMP_!

She launches across the space effortlessly and Castiel is stumbling back. Being up here was a terrible, horrible, _stupid_ idea and he drops the walkie-talkie to fumbles with the gun. It takes forever to get the safety off and she is _so fast_. It’s all the more terrifying when she scuttles across the roof in a zig-zag on all fours, eyes never blinking while locked on to him.

Castiel lines up the shot, trying to remember his training. It still feels like he’s firing blind when he pulls the trigger. She’s fast though – too fast – and dodges the dart. The distance between them is minimal, closing quick even as he turns to actually _run_.

There’s a loud bang down below, followed by the sound of Dean shouting. At this point, it feels like it’s a million miles away and Castiel should have stayed in the _damn car_ like he was told. Oh God, Dean is going to be _so angry _at him for this.

In his long line of bad decisions, he follows the first idea that pops into his head. The Winchesters are safety and Castiel needs that right now. He needs to get away from the danger behind him and get to them and the quickest way is over the edge of the roof. Maybe some kind of instincts tied to his wings are what puts the thought into his head, but Castiel veers to the side and launches himself over the edge of the roof.

His wings haven’t been clipped in months. Not as many have grown in as they should and they’re not long enough for actual flight, but he should – theoretically – be able to glide. Gliding should be easy, right? It’s just spreading his wings and catching the air, right? Or so he hopes as he finds himself airborne; wings spread to try and slow his descent. Castiel has literally _never_ done anything like this before and his heart is in his throat.

For a moment, it actually seems to be working. There’s a semi-trailer directly below – _thank God_ – and he tries aiming for that. If he falls from this height to it, at worst he’ll have a broken leg or arm. At least it’s not a broken _back_ or _neck_ or actually _dying_. At best, he’ll have some scrapes and bruises and –

A loud hiss echoes off the roof behind him. Castiel doesn’t even get the chance to glance over his shoulder before there’s something crashing into his back. It disrupts the delicate, ungraceful glide and sends him slamming into the top of the semi-trailer several feet below. His legs take the brunt of the landing and it doesn’t feel like anything breaks, but he pitches forward and cries out at the sharp sting as he scrapes skin through the layer of denim over his knees. He definitely rips up the skin of his hands when he slides on them; the heavy weight on his back pressing down on him.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the mutant jumped after him. Her clawed fingers are digging into his shoulders and she’s hissing in his ear. He can practically _smell_ the venom tainting her saliva and that alone ratchets his panic meter up to _twenty_. Without thinking about it, he rolls over because he needs her _off_ of him as soon as he can get it.

She scrambles over him as he rolls, and Castiel finds himself face to face with dripping teeth. He shoves her back by the shoulders, holding her away as he keeps the rolling momentum. Maybe if he can get her under him, he can pin her until Dean and Sam can knock her out.

But continuing to roll takes them right over the edge of the trailer and it’s gotta be nearly fifteen feet of empty air between them and the ground. Castiel expects the hard jolt of the ground to happen almost immediately and he closes his eyes to brace for it, knowing that she’s going to take the brunt of the fall for them both and feeling the dread with the fact that he might have just killed her – or both of them.

The crash never comes. There’s a soft _fmp_ sound and Castiel opens his eyes to find the mutant staring up at him. Her mouth goes slack and her eyes roll back, falling closed as she goes limp under him. He glances around and realizes that they’re slowly floating to the ground. The reason why takes way too long to click – not until he sees Sam with both hands held out in front of him and an intense look of concentration on his face as he puts his rarely used telekinesis to work.

Dean is already there, waiting for them to come within reach. He grabs the mutant and pulls her away from Castiel, taking the brunt of her weight with ease as Sam releases his hold on her. The expression on his face is unreadable as he takes the dart from her shoulder and carefully puts her down on the ground. Next, he reaches for Castiel.

“Are you hurt?”

Yes, he’s got aches all over the place, but he can’t get his mouth to form the answer.

The moment his feet touch the ground, Castiel’s legs nearly give out on him. It doesn’t matter as Dean pulls him into a tight, nearly crushing hug. He’s stepping back just as quickly, his hands fluttering over Castiel’s arms and sides. Of course he inspects the skinned palms of his hands, frowning at the broken skin. But he doesn’t try to take the pain for him.

“Are you okay?” Dean drops his hands and cups Castiel’s face, holding firmly to keep him from looking away. “I need you to tell me that you’re okay.”

Castiel nods slightly. “I think so?” Because he honestly can’t tell. His whole body feels like it’s on fire and numb all at the same time and his head is buzzing with static.

“Good.” Dean breathes out heavily through his nose; eyes closed. After a moment, he opens them and any trace of relief is gone. It’s nothing but a cold, hard anger that makes Castiel want to run. “What the _fuck_ were you thinking, Cas? I told you to _stay in the car_!”

“I –” He has no good excuses and his throat works around the next word without it actually coming up. If he said that he thought it was a good idea – that he thought he could be _useful_ to them – Well, he doesn’t want to think what Dean might do.

Sam is kneeling next to the mutant, cuffing her after checking her vitals. “Dean.” He looks up at them, expression softer but just as unhappy. “We should call this in now and let the cops deal with it. We don’t know how long she’s going to be out.”

Dean grits his teeth and he glances between Castiel and Sam before sighing heavily again. “Fine.” He pulls his phone out with one hand and the other he points at the Impala. “Cas. Go back to the car and this time, fucking _stay there_.”

It’s hard not to flinch at the steel in his tone. Castiel nods and starts for the car, limping slightly as a sharp ache pulses through his knees. He stops after a few steps and looks back at Dean; the phone already to his ear and his eyes locked on Castiel – probably to make sure that he actually gets into the car like he’s been told to.

“I dropped the gun.” He points upwards at the roof of the building. “And the walkie-talkie.”

“I’ll get it.” Sam stands up and dusts the dirt from his knees.

Castiel ducks his head and continues his slow shuffle to the Impala. The doors are still unlocked, something else that Dean might bite his head off for later, and he gets in. He can still feel the weight of Dean’s glare on him and he opts to lie down across the back seat, knees tucked to his chest. His coat is a pile on the floor and he pulls it up to cover himself, even going so far as to cover his head with it.

The true realization of everything he just did is starting to settle on him and Castiel feels like he’s going to throw up. He ignores how his skin is burning in several places and how he literally could have just died because he was worried about his friends and wanted to be _helpful_. Dean being mad at him actually hurts far more and he’s breathing _way_ too fast right now.

Great. Another panic attack. Just what he needed right now.

He covers his face with his hands and winces at the sting to his palms. Counting might not be enough to get him through this, but right now it’s all that he has.

Everything leading up to this moment is a culmination of his worst possible ideas yet and he could not possibly hate himself more for it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Wednesday – September 26th, 2018_ **

Castiel has no concept of time for how long he remains curled up in the backseat of the Impala. He could check his phone, but that would involve coming out from underneath his shame coat and searching through his pockets for his phone. Frankly, he’d like to avoid that for as long as he can – particularly long after Dean and Sam are no longer mad at him.

If that’s ever possible again.

From under his shame coat, Castiel can hear almost everything going on outside. Sirens and the crunch of gravel announce the arrival of the police. Their red and blue lights flash through the windows and paint splashes of colour across his coat. Castiel closes his eyes against them and turns his face into the leather of the seat. He counts his way through the climbing anxiety, pulling out every trick he has to try and keep himself calm.

That said, he still flinches terribly and damn near has a heart attack when someone finally opens one of the car doors. It’s the front passenger door, if he’s correct in his listening, which means that it’s Sam who gets in. The door slams shut and the only sound that follows is that of Sam getting comfortable and putting things away. Their duffle from before is still sitting in the front seat, so god knows what he could be doing in there.

Eventually, one of them has to speak. Sam breaks the silence with a sigh. “We made our reports and turned her over. Dean is just finishing up with the cops and then we’ll be leaving.”

Castiel only manages to grunt in response. There's a lump in his throat that won’t let any other sounds out. He’s too worked up to say actual words.

The leather seats creak as Sam shifts in it. “How are you feeling? Are you hurt?” To his credit, he actually does sound concerned and not angry, which is really too nice of him. He _should_ be angry. Castiel broke his promise and did some really stupid stuff.

With a heavy sigh, Castiel pushes back his shame coat far enough that the street lights from outside can illuminate his hands. They’re still stinging quite a lot, and they don’t look good; broken skin filled with grit and gravel, and blood smeared everywhere. It doesn’t look like it’s still bleeding, but it hurts a lot.

“Let me see.” Sam is turned in his seat and he holds out his hand for Castiel to give him his. “Is it something our first-aid kit can handle?” He winces when he sees his palms, hissing quietly to himself. “Oh, those don’t look good, but we should be able to clean them up back at the motel. Anything else we need to worry about?”

Castiel shrugs. He’s not familiar with injuries and their severity. He knows he’s aching all over and he definitely hurt his knees, his elbows, and his hand. There may be other things that he just can’t pinpoint at the moment. What does a broken ankle feel like? What does a sprain feel like? He doesn’t know how to tell them apart and he won’t know how badly he’s hurt until someone else can look him over.

Sam lets his hand go and Castiel carefully moves his coat back over his shoulders. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “How angry is Dean?”

“Pretty angry.” He turns forward again to look out the windows. “I’ve been concentrating to keep my empathy shut off ever since you jumped off the roof. His emotions were running too high and giving me a headache.”

After a moment, Sam sighs and slumps down until he can rest his head on the back of his seat. “Why did you leave the car, Cas?”

He’s been asking himself that since he got banished to the backseat again. The reasons he had in the beginning sound stupid, but they’re all that he has. “I thought I could keep a better look out from the roof.” But his hands are proof alone how _dumb_ that was. “I wanted to be useful instead of just – just sitting here worrying about the two of you.”

Sam sighs again, loud and long. “You promised you would stay in the car.”

“I know.” Castiel closes his eyes and fights against the sting in his nose. He hates crying and he’s not going to do it now. “I’m sorry.” He carefully lays his arms in front of him so his hands hang over the edge of the seat, careful not to touch anything with them. “If it’s any consolation, I thought it was a bad idea the whole time.”

“But you still went.”

“I didn’t say that I _listened_ to myself.”

Sam snorts a sharp, short laugh. “Clearly.” He rocks his head to the side, just enough to look at Castiel again. “Are your knees as bad as your hands?”

“Probably.”

He winces again. “Anything broken?”

“Not that I can tell.” Castiel shrugs and stretches out a little bit. Every bit of his body aches and resists the motion, but he uncurls his legs and rotates his ankles to see if there’s any sharp pains. Nothing feels particularly painful, but he’s very uncomfortable.

“That’s good.” Sam looks forward again and immediately straightens in his seat. “Oh, looks like Dean’s done with the cops. Here he comes.” He frowns and looks back at Castiel. “He might try and take your pain from you when we get back to the motel.”

That is to be expected, not that Castiel likes it. “I won’t let him.”

“Well, that’s a fun argument to look forward to.” Sam sighs heavily and rubs his hands over his face.

Because of course that’s going to be something they’re going to argue over. Maybe it will distract from any yelling over how stupid he was to leave the Impala in the first place. The last thing he needs is Dean to point out that he could have died when he jumped off the roof and – Oh, he’s been so rude!

“Um - Thank you for catching us, by the way.” If it wasn’t for Sam stopping them mid-fall off the semi-trailer, Castiel could have ended up much more hurt than this.

And that is when it hits him. Castiel sits up suddenly, hissing as his body protests the movement. “Wait! There are security cameras, aren’t there? What if someone watches the recording and sees you using your powers?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam shakes his head and turns a tired smile on him. “I was standing outside the radius of the cameras. Dean and I memorized the layout of them when we were doing our research on the area – just in case I needed to help out at some point.” He knocks his knuckles against the seat between them. “We even parked in a dead zone.”

Oh _God_. Castiel’s stomach drops and he instantly feels queasy. “But then I left the car and went up a ladder on the side of a building.”

It takes a few moments for Sam to realize what he’s getting at. He groans and rubs his hands over his face again. “Right.” He sighs and rocks to one side to get his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll text Bobby. He’s got a friend who can do something about that.”

That doesn’t make Castiel feel any better. “What if he can’t?”

“I don’t think there’s a security system out there that Frank can’t hack.” Sam shrugs and starts typing out a message. “Worst case scenario; I sneak back in later on and have to wipe some analog tapes before we head out tomorrow morning.”

There’s something about the idea of Sam breaking the law like that for him that Castiel doesn’t like. He’s the one who messed up and now he’s also put himself at risk of being found out. “What if she tells them about me?”

“She won’t.” Sam glances up from his phone briefly. “The tranquilizer tends to make immediate memories fuzzy. I doubt she’ll remember jumping off the roof, let alone that she saw you.”

That settles Castiel’s stomach somewhat, but then Dean is getting into the car and it twists upon itself all over again. He opens his mouth to say something – _anything _– but nothing comes out. Not that it matters, because Dean doesn’t even look at him. He just starts the Impala and U-turns them out of the compound without a word.

Castiel’s wings droop and he reconsiders the idea of lying down again. If he hides under his shame-coat, then he won’t be upright to notice how Dean doesn’t once look in the rear-view mirror back at him. God, he’s in _so much trouble_. Dean has never been so quiet with him. It’s so uncomfortable and his heart hurts as much as his body does.

Of course he’s not the only one who suffers through the completely silent drive back to the motel. Sam fidgets just as much as Castiel does. The air is thick with tension and Dean maintains a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel the whole time.

When they finally pull into the parking spot in front of their hotel room, Sam is quick to get out of the car. It leaves Castiel and Dean alone in silence and it feels horrifically awkward, especially as Dean remains perfectly still – hands still on the wheel and still staring straight through the front window. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to move any time soon. Should Castiel say something? Or –

Sam is standing in the doorway to their motel room, holding the door open. It’s the same thing he did when they arrived and Castiel already feels bad enough about tonight. He doesn’t want to feel worse for making Sam wait. Since Dean is apparently not ready to head inside yet, it might be best that Castiel go in without him. When Dean is ready to talk (or, more likely, yell), he’ll come find him.

Without a word – because he’s not sure if he could even make himself apologize to Dean again right now – Castiel slips out of the car with his shame-coat draped over his shoulders to cover his wings. He limps his way into the motel room, wincing whenever a new pain flares up. If he thought falling off the obstacle course was bad, he was _not_ prepared for how much hurt goes with – Well, jumping off a roof. Which just sounds so _dumb_. How could he have been that stupid?

The door shuts behind him and Castiel glances back. “But Dean –”

“He has a key and he needs to work through some – uh – some _stuff_ on his own.” Sam shrugs out of his jacket and unstraps the holster from his thigh. “Sit down.”

Castiel winces at the tone and he shuffles carefully to the bed he’s been sharing with Dean. He watches as Sam finds their first-aid kit and brings it over. “Okay, let’s take care of everything.” He sits down next to him. “Show me your hands.”

His bottom lip trembles slightly, but Castiel presses them together to make it stop. His hands are in his lap, palms up, and they really do look terrible. Sam takes one and he looks it over, gently urging Castiel to spread his fingers.

“Okay, change of plans.” Sam sighs and stands up. “We should wash these first and get the grit out. Can you walk again?”

“Yes?”

Sam helps him to his feet, careful not to cup his elbow because even those sting every time the sleeve of his shirt moves over them. He leads him to the bathroom and gets the water going in the sink. “Here. Wash with soap.”

Castiel washes his hands; biting his lip to keep from hissing in pain because it stings like a _bitch_ and some of the gravel isn’t coming out. What do they do when the dirt won’t come out? Are they going to have to go to the hospital? Aunt Amara talks about a time she fell when she was rollerblading and had a massive pebble stuck so deep in her hand that she needed a doctor to remove it after numbing her hand. She still has the small white scar on her palm where it happened.

They both freeze at the sound of the motel door opening. Sam glances up from sorting the first-aid kit out onto the counter, and they both watch in the mirror as Dean steps into view. His expression is stony and cold and Castiel has to look away. It hurts too much being the cause of that, and it’s reflecting in Castiel’s wings as they droop even lower. The longer feathers even brush the ground now.

“I – uh – I think that should be good, Cas.” Sam reaches over to turn the water off. “Let me take a look now.” He takes one of his hands and starts dabbing at it with a soft cloth. “Oof.” His nose wrinkles slightly. “That’s going to hurt for a while. All we can really do is put some gauze on them, tape it up, and check on them tomorrow for infection. I’ll do that, and then you can show me anything else that hurts.”

Like his heart? It’s aching almost as much as everywhere else. He broke a promise to his closest friends and upset them. Dean won’t even _look_ at him, and –

“Sam.” Dean clears his throat from the doorway. “I’ll take care of this. You finish cleaning up.”

There’s a moment where Sam simply stares at Dean. Finally, he shifts his attention to Castiel and raises an eyebrow at him. It’s a silent question, but one that he reads quite clearly.

“It’s fine, Sam.”

That’s a lie. It’s not fine. Castiel is _terrified _of what comes next.

“Alright, then.” Sam puts the antibacterial cream he was holding down and he shuffles around first him, and then Dean. “I’ll clean the guns and get started on packing our stuff for tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Dean nods at him before stepping into the bathroom. He barely even looks at Castiel as he kicks the door mostly closed behind him. “You. Arms out.”

He won’t even say his _name_.

Castiel tries to keep his disappointment from showing as he lifts his arms. He remains looking at the ground, until his view is obscured with Dean’s chest as he steps in close. Too close. Castiel holds his breath as Dean reaches behind him to unzip the back of his shirt where it connects under his wings. He quickly follows that up with undoing the button holding the collar of the shirt together around his neck; movements short and precise.

“Okay.” He steps back again and gets a grip on the cuff of one sleeve. “We’re doing this one arm at a time.” That’s all the warning Castiel gets before he starts sliding the sleeve down, keeping it open enough so it doesn’t touch the skin of his hand or his elbow.

Dean throws the shirt aside and immediately starts to undo Castiel’s belt. That sends his stomach flip-flopping again. This is _not_ an appropriate time for him to think about _anything_ that has to do with removing clothing. It’s certainly not the kind of scenario where he might have imagined Dean would be taking off his clothing for him, but here they are.

Once the belt is done, Dean unbuttons his jeans and drops to his knees. Castiel immediately looks to the ceiling. There’s a mildew-y spot in the corner above the shower and he stares at that, hoping it will be enough to distract him as Dean helps him out of his shoes, socks, _and _pants. Those all get tossed aside with the shirt, and then there are _hands_ on him. Dean touches his legs gently, thumbs rubbing under the broken skin on his knees.

After a moment, Dean sighs and stands up again. He pulls the shower curtain back and points at the edge of the tub. “Sit and put your feet in the tub. I’ll be right back.”

Castiel does as he’s told and he settles carefully on the narrow edge. He has his hands held palm up in his lap, trying to keep them clean now that he’s washed them. Dean returns fairly quickly with a soaped cloth and a plastic cup. He crouches in the tub in front of him and runs the water just enough to fill the cup and get the cloth damp.

To his credit, Dean is very gentle as he wipes the broken skin and uses the water cup to rinse the soap away. It still stings and Castiel flinches at every other swipe of the cloth, but he does his best to remain quiet. Dean forges ahead with cleaning his knees, the scrape on his hip, and both elbows. He even double-checks Castiel’s hands, _tsk_-ing at the bigger bits of gravel still stuck in his skin.

Dean gets a pair of tweezers from the first-aid kit and settles down to pick them out. Castiel bites his lip and keeps his shoulders straight; wings tucked tight. It hurts, but that’s not what has him on the verge of tears. The silence is what gets to him the most. Aside from a few terse directions, Dean hasn’t said _anything_ to him the whole time that he cleans him up.

Finally, the cleaning is done and all his scrapes are grit free. Dean lays towels out on the bathroom floor for them to both stand on as Castiel moves to sit on the lid of the toilet. The silence stretches out as all his scrapes get covered in layers of antibacterial cream, gauze, and tensor bandages on his joints to help keep it all in place.

It’s a miracle that Castiel doesn’t cry the whole time, but he does get dangerously close to it. The first tear doesn’t fall until Dean stands up and starts putting everything back in the first-aid kit. All it takes is one final blink to break the gates. His bottom lip trembles again as he tries to hold it in and he looks down at his hands to hide it, but the sniffles will likely give him away.

A glass of water enters his field of vision and Dean offers a couple painkillers as well. “Here. These will help you sleep.”

Castiel takes them gratefully and downs them quickly. He tries blinking away the tears before Dean can see them. His whole body hurts and he hates that Dean is _so mad_ at him. It’s an angry kindness and it’s got to be his least favourite kind of anger. He would rather be yelled at – anything other than this deafening silence broken only by the sound of Sam moving around in the other room.

Dean closes the first-aid kit with a snap and stands at the edge of the counter with his hands on it. He hangs his head, his eyes closed, and takes a deep breath. “How are your wings?”

He shrugs. “Fine?” They don’t ache nearly as much as the rest of him.

“Turn around.”

“They’re fine, Dean.” Castiel sniffles and shakes his head.

Fingers tuck under his chin and force him to tilt his face upward. Dean thumbs some of the tears away and he softens slightly; his frown not as severe. “Let me check them out, please?”

It’s a question. Castiel has an out if he wants it, and he should probably take it. He should turn in for the night and get his tongue-lashing in the morning because that’s sure to be coming soon. After a moment of deliberation, he nods. If it will potentially put Dean in a better mood, then he can check his wings too.

He ends up sitting on the edge of the tub again, this time with Dean combing through his feathers. A gentle hand on the base of his neck urges him to lean forward until his chest is nearly pressed to his knees. Castiel allows it; chin tucked to his chest as Dean’s fingers dig into the down at the base of his wings. The tears have abated for now, especially in the face of Dean alleviating the molting itch with some nice scratches.

Or – at least – until Dean digs in deep enough to touch his oil gland. The first brush of a finger against that has his gasping and twitching.

“Your wings got filthy.” Dean grumbles more to himself than Castiel as he pinches the gland.

It feels as good as it did the first time Dean groomed his wings. Castiel swallows a whine because he doesn’t _want_ to feel good right now. He feels terrible for tonight and he deserves to feel like this. He messed up and he shouldn’t be having Dean _grooming his wings_ tonight of all nights, and he shouldn’t have little lightning bolts of pleasure skipping up his spine every time he goes back to the gland. Dean takes the oil and pinches it into his feathers, rubbing through them and scratching whenever a wing twitches with an itch.

All Castiel can do is cover his face (carefully) and allow Dean to preen his wings for him. They’re not nearly as dull as they were when they last groomed them, but they must have gotten dirty when he rolled around on the roof of the truck trailer. He breathes hard through it all, every breath rattling in his chest, and tries not to squirm through the rest of the grooming.

By the time he’s done, Castiel is nearly completely undone and the tears are freefalling all over again.

Dean sighs as he washes his hands clean. “Okay, it’s bedtime.” He helps Castiel up with a hand under his armpit and stops him once he’s standing on the towels. The fingers under his chin are gentle again as they tilt his chin up. “Why are you crying again? Does it hurt –?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” He _hates_ that he’s crying, but he can’t make it stop. “I didn’t – I shouldn’t –” He takes a shaky breath. “I’m _sorry_.”

“I know.” But Dean’s expression is still hard and none-too-warm. “Are you going to do something that fucking _stupid_ again?”

God no. He shakes his head even harder. “I won’t. I won’t even go hunting with you again.”

“I didn’t say that.” Dean strokes a thumb over his cheek and Castiel turns his face into the touch before he even realizes that he’s doing it. “I like the idea of you hunting with us – but only once you’re _properly_ trained and when you actually _listen to me_.”

“I will.” Castiel bobs his head repeatedly. “I promise.”

“Like how you promised you would stay in the car?” Dean raises an eyebrow, the skepticism etched in every line of his face.

His nose stings and Castiel can feel himself tearing up again. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head again. “I know, I _know_. I messed up.” He sniffles in a desperate attempt to not have snot join the mess on his face. “I – I thought I could be more helpful, but all I did was mess it up worse and I – I won’t do it again. I’ll _listen_. I _swear_.”

Dean narrows his eyes and, for a chilling minute, simply stares him down. It’s rather brief in the scheme of things, but to Castiel it feels like an eternity. Thankfully, finally, Dean sighs loudly through his nose. He cups the back of Castiel’s neck and pulls him forward until their foreheads touch. It brings them much closer than usual and Castiel can’t help holding his breath. He gets to watch from close up as the tension in Dean’s body slowly melts away.

“Do you –” Dean takes a deep, trembling breath. “Do you have _any _idea how scared I was?” There’s so much _emotion_ in his voice and Castiel feels like he can’t breathe. The lump in his throat is too big to swallow or breathe around. “As if my heart didn’t nearly stop when you clicked for us, then you weren’t in the car and – and then you _jumped off the fucking roof_.”

Castiel can’t help a shaky laugh – though it’s more of a huff than anything. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“You _flew_!”

“There was no flapping involved, so I think, technically, I glided? Glid?” He frowns. “I’m not sure of the correct grammar. I –”

Dean brings up a hand and presses a finger against Castiel’s lips, silencing him quite effectively. “You jumped. You glided. And then – then she was on you, and – Cas, I –”

The emotion is back in Dean’s voice, making it tight and shaky. It has Castiel’s heart skipping a beat and, the next thing he knows, he’s tilting his chin up. The kiss is clumsy and inaccurate, but at least Dean isn’t getting upset anymore. No, instead of upset, he’s taking a deep breath that Castiel can actually _feel_ against his lips. Then Dean’s hand is coming up and cupping his jaw and he’s kissing back.

_He’s kissing back_.

Castiel has no idea what he’s doing, but he fumbles to pull Dean closer. His wings, freshly preened, fold forward to wrap around him. Dean makes a broken noise against his lips and he’s thumbing at Castiel’s jaw, urging him to open his mouth. Then there’s a tongue licking in and rubbing against his own. Castiel has _no idea_ what kind of sound he makes, but Dean is pressing closer and dropping a hand to the small of his back, pulling him in.

His brain is buzzing – flatlining with every push and pull. Castiel cups the sides of Dean’s neck and immediately regrets it as his hands sting at the pressure against the gauze. He hisses sharply and they both pull back suddenly, leaving his lips tingling and his heart pounding. Dean looks _debauched_; lips red and wet, face flushed, and eyes dark. They’re both breathing hard, and Castiel has no idea if that was good or bad, but that was his first kiss and he can still _taste Dean’s tongue in his mouth_.

He licks his lips and he’s very aware that Dean’s gaze drops to watch the motion. Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “That –”

“I don’t –” Castiel starts at the same time as him and they both stop.

Dean holds up both hands and steps back. “I – I gotta go get some air.”

Wait, he’s leaving? Why is he _leaving_? Castiel catches his hand to keep him from taking another step back. “I – I –” He has no idea how this sentence is going to go.

“It’s okay, Cas.” Dean squeezes his fingers gently. “But you – uh – you should go to bed.”

That doesn’t sound good and Castiel bites his lip. As soon as he does that, Dean looks down at them again. He curses quietly to himself and closes his eyes. “It’s okay, Cas. _We’re_ okay. I just – I _really_ need some air and – and we’re going to talk about – about whatever the hell this just was. But in the morning. When I can think again. Yeah. Morning. Okay?”

Castiel takes a deep breath and forces himself to nod. They literally just_ kissed_ and Dean wants to leave? That can’t be a good sign. Was the kiss bad? Unwanted? Then why did he kiss back? Oh God, why did Castiel kiss him in the first place? It just _happened_ and he didn’t even _think_ about the repercussions. Did he or did he not promise himself that he wasn’t going to act on his feelings for Dean? He could have just ruined their friendship _twice _tonight and –

A hand on his cheek silences his thoughts almost as effectively as Dean stepping back into his space. He can’t help but close his eyes and lean into another soft kiss – even though he really shouldn’t.

The kiss is over almost as soon as it started; Dean stepping back quickly with a quiet groan. “Oh we are _definitely_ talking about this in the morning.”

“Okay.” Castiel’s exhale rattles through his chest.

Dean backs up out of the bathroom slowly, almost as if it pains him. As soon as he’s out of sight, Castiel sinks down onto the edge of the tub again. He can hear Dean and Sam speak briefly before the door to the motel room opens and closes. Dean just left. They just kissed, and Dean _left_. Castiel touches his lips and stares at the floor, trying to sort through his thoughts.

At some point, there’s a knock on the doorframe. He looks up to find Sam peeking into the room. “Yes?”

“I’m just checking in to see if you’re okay?” Sam glances around the room, as if he’s expecting to find Dean in here too, despite how he most definitely knows he’s gone. “You’ve been in here for a while.”

Castiel looks down at his feet. “I’m – uh –” He’s really not sure.

Sam steps into the room properly, eyeing him as if he might be a ticking time bomb. “Dean said I should help get you tucked into bed while he goes for a walk. That sound good?”

“Okay.” If he’s sleeping, maybe he won’t have to think about all of this and – Oh God. There is _so much_ to think about.

“Alrighty, then. C’mon.” Sam pats him on the head before he helps him to his feet.

With Sam at his side, Castiel limps his way to the bed. Everything hurts, but in a distant kind of way. Whatever those painkillers were, they’re working very well. Maybe it’s not the kiss that filled his head with cotton, but the pills instead? That would be nice. It would mean the reason he’s not freaking out isn’t because he doesn’t know how to deal with this. Or maybe he’s just freaking out well beyond what he’s capable of handling.

The blanket is already pulled back on his bed and Sam helps him onto his side. He pulls the blanket up over Castiel’s hips and tucks it in around his legs. Castiel watches him get a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the kitchenette and he places it on the bedside table before sitting down on the edge of his own bed.

“So.” Sam links his fingers together. “That happened.”

Castiel finds it _very_ difficult to look Sam in the eye. “Yeah.” It’s a little surprising that he knows. They weren’t being quiet, exactly, but –

“Don’t hurt him.” He interrupts Castiel’s thoughts as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I don’t want to give you the shovel talk, but don’t – _Please_ don’t kiss him and then act like it never happened. Like when he groomed your wings the first time, or when you spooned him all night.”

Oh God, where is the nearest rock? “He really does tell you everything, doesn’t he?”

“Not everything.” Sam shakes his head. “Sometimes I have to rely on my empathy and some more-or-less accurate guessing to figure things out.” He pauses and glances over his shoulder at the door. “But I do get to hear about the things that make him happy.”

And now Castiel kind of wants to _die_. He can feel the blush burning in his cheeks and he turns his face into the pillow, trying not to think about that.

“_You_ make him happy, if that wasn’t clear.”

“Yes, I got it.” Castiel folds his wing over his head to hide himself. “Thank you.” And that’s when it occurs to him that there are more than just the three of them that could hear about this. He lowers his wing to meet Sam’s eye. “Don’t tell Anna.”

Immediately, Sam looks away. It’s a surprisingly guilty gesture and Castiel realizes exactly what that means. He groans. “You already did, didn’t you?”

“Not yet. I mean, I did swear an oath to her that I would tell her if things between you two progressed while you were traveling with us. If you don’t tell her within twenty-four hours, I’m oath-bound to tell her myself.” Sam shrugs and leans back on his hands. “We siblings need to stick together during times of great annoyance.”

“I’ll tell her.” Castiel sighs and makes a mental note to kill Anna when he gets home. “She talked you into it, didn’t she?”

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs again and stands up. “I’m going to turn off the light now. You get some rest and we’ll check everything out again in the morning.” Without waiting for an answer, he turns off the lamp next to the bed.

“Foul play.” Castiel whispers, glaring at the shadow retreating to the small light over the little table in the kitchenette.

Sam snorts as he drops into the chair in front of his laptop. “All’s fair in love and war, Cas.”

He groans and closes his eyes, wanting desperately to give into the drowsy feeling brought on by the painkillers. What did Dean give him? Because he’s hurting less and less, and is he floating? It feels like he’s floating, and it’s so nice. So, so nice.

Castiel jerks awake a very indeterminate while later when the bed dips behind him. The room is dark and Sam is a lump in his bed, or at least maybe it’s a duffle bag? He’s not sure, but Castiel groans and rolls onto his stomach, and then again onto his side so he can face Dean. It’s like moving through molasses, but he reaches out for him with a grumble. Dean hushes him quietly and he’s suddenly there, scooting close enough to guide Castiel up against his side.

“Go back to sleep.” Dean shushes him a few times and presses a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He hums a soft tune that rumbles under his cheek, and it feels so good. Warm and comfortable and soft. It’s so damn _nice_ and Castiel drifts off to it.

* * *

** _Thursday – September 27th, 2018_ **

Everything hurts when he wakes up. Even his _feathers_ hurt. The world _sucks_. Why does it have to suck so much? Ugh, he just wants to curl up and cuddle with Dean for the rest of eternity. He whines and gropes across the bed, searching out Dean’s heat because that’s all he wants right now.

Castiel reaches the edge of the bed before he realizes that Dean isn’t there. That’s not right. He’s supposed to be there. Castiel isn’t supposed to wake up _alone_.

“Hey, sunshine.” Ah, there he is. The bed dips as Dean sits on its edge. “Time to get up.”

He helps Castiel sit up and it is the _worst thing ever_. Everything _aches_ and he groans the whole way into an upright position. God help him, but he never wants to move ever again.

“I’d feel bad for you, but it’s your penance for not listening to me.” Dean ruffles his hair and throws back the blanket to help him to the edge of the bed. “Now, let’s get you to the bathroom to clean up. Bobby and Pam are waiting for us.”

“Don’t wanna.” Castiel hangs his head back even as Dean hauls him to his feet. “Wanna just _stay here_.”

Dean is unrelenting and unmerciful. He pulls Castiel over to the bathroom and shoves him through the doorway. “Go on, go do your business. Call me when you’re done. We’ll change your bandages and give you a couple aspirin.”

“Coffee?” Castiel looks hopefully over his shoulder, only to find the door has been shut for him.

“The only people who get coffee are the people who do what I tell them to do.” Dean calls through the door, and the jerk sounds like he’s smiling.

Sam is actually _laughing_ and Castiel doesn’t even remember seeing him. “Just do what he says, Cas. It’s better that way.”

Castiel groans loudly so they can hear how unhappy he is as he stumbles over to the toilet to do his – as Dean put it – _business_. Unfortunately, he’s not steady enough to try and aim without making clean up a lot more disgusting for the motel cleaning crew. He hates himself just a little bit as he sits down, not only because he’s the reason he’s in this situation in the first place, but because he has to stand up again afterwards and everything _hurts_.

Once he’s done and swaying on his feet again, he stares at his hands and wonders how he’s supposed to wash them with all the gauze in the way. “Uh – I’m done?”

The door opens a crack. “You decent?”

“Does it matter?” He’s too sore to care.

Dean steps into the room, the first-aid kit in one hand and the other hidden behind his back. “It only matters if you don’t want me seeing what you’re packing.”

He purposefully glances downwards and the panic induced by that look wakes Castiel up quite nicely. For a moment, he’s actually worried that something might be hanging out. He can’t help looking down too and breathing a sigh of relief once he confirms that he’s safe and all covered up.

“Here.” Dean pulls a travel mug from behind his back and holds it out. “Sit and drink that while I change your bandages.” He pauses and looks Castiel over again. “Though, I feel like I should point out that I would be fine by the end of the day if you let me take this all on for you.”

Castiel’s feathers fluff and he narrows his eyes at Dean over the rim of his mug. “What happened to this being _my penance_? It’s not much of a consequence if you take it for me.”

Dean sighs, eye roll et al. “Yeah, yeah.” He directs Castiel to sit down on the lid of the toilet and kneels in front of him.

There’s a distinct wrinkle to his noise as he starts changing the bandages, and it’s really cute. Castiel sips at his coffee and looks everywhere _but_ at Dean – except when Dean isn’t looking at him. That’s when it’s okay, because then Castiel can stare without judgement. His stomach twists whenever he looks at his lips and remembers that they _kissed_ last night. More than once.

Last night was a lot.

Dean saves doing his hands for last. He cleans them with – Are those baby wipes? Why does he have baby wipes? No, it’s better not to question it.

Castiel waits until he’s finished and putting everything away again before he broaches the silence between them. “Are we going to talk now?”

“Guess so.” Dean shrugs and turns to lean his hip against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “Getting down to brass tacks here, I figure that this can go a couple ways.”

The coffee is almost done, but Castiel holds on to the travel mug like it’s a lifeline. “How so?” He’s almost afraid to look at Dean, but he also can’t bring himself to fully look away.

“Well…” Dean takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out through his nose. “My least favourite option is that we act like nothing happened and we carry on as usual.”

That makes the coffee turn in his belly and Castiel briefly fights the urge to throw up. He has to take a few even breaths to calm himself down. “And – and what’s your _preferred_ option?”

“The one where you let me kiss you more often.”

He’s just so _blatant_ with how he says it, and Castiel can’t help blushing in answer. “You want to kiss me?” He ducks his head and twists the mug between his hands, careful of the fresh gauze and not putting any pressure on them.

“Who wouldn’t?” Dean shrugs, a cheeky grin pulling up the corner of his mouth.

Castiel snorts, but he can’t really return the smile. Dean wants to kiss him, but does that also mean he wants to date him? He knows that Dean likes him – is _attracted_ to him – but does he _love_ him? There’s a big difference between the two, and Castiel is already pretty sure that he’s in love with his best friend.

“Do you –” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Do you want to _just_ kiss?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs and his wings curve forward over his shoulders. “I mean – Is there _more_ you want?”

Dean stares down at him, expression inscrutable. “Are you talking about sex?”

Oh God. Castiel thought he’d be able to talk about this _without_ feeling like a preteen, but his ears are burning and he can’t look Dean in the eye. He has to try _very hard_ to not think about what sex with Dean would be like. That’s a rabbit hole he’ll never be able to crawl out of, and he’s thus far done such a good job with avoiding those kinds of thoughts.

Before he can think of anything to say, Dean’s phone rings suddenly and has them both jump in surprise. Dean fumbles it out of his pocket and swears when he sees the screen. “It’s Bobby.”

“Answer it.” Castiel stands up with more aches and pains then he cares for. “I’ll finish getting ready.”

The look Dean gives him is torn, but then he’s putting his phone to his ear and turning away. “Hey, Bobby. What’s up?” He ducks out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as he’s gone, Castiel nearly collapses back onto the toilet lid again. He braces his hip against the counter and takes a few deep breaths. His nose is stinging again and he is _not _going to cry. Things between him and Dean are good – _as friends_, but what if Dean only wants a physical relationship? All he said was that he wanted to kiss Castiel. They didn’t really talk enough to clarify if he wanted more but – but what if he doesn’t?

Friends with benefits is a thing, but it’s not the kind of thing that Castiel wants. Yes, he wants to kiss Dean again (it makes his lips tingle just to think about it), but he wants more than that. He wants a romantic relationship too, and –

No!

Castiel shakes his head and knocks his knuckles against his temple a few times. He is _not_ supposed to want to kiss Dean. He’s _not_ supposed to want a romantic relationship. He’s _supposed_ to want their friendship to remain entirely unchanged so he doesn’t lose the Winchesters to what will undoubtedly be a horribly awkward mess almost guaranteed to end in heartbreak.

There have to be more options than just the two that Dean mentioned. If he allowed himself to think about it, he could probably come up with them on his own, but he can’t even start to think about it without wanting to cry.

Sam told him not to hurt Dean, but what if Castiel is the one who gets hurt? What if he wants more than what Dean is willing to give? Before now, he never considered that Dean might only want a physical relationship. And now – now it’s all he can focus on and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

Can they even_ have_ a relationship? Dean is gone hunting most of the time. For every one to two weeks that he spends in _Lawrence_, he’s gone for three to four. And he’s a package deal with Sam. Castiel adores Sam, but he’s _always around_. It’s rarely just two of the three of them. They’re even sharing a motel room. He could never ask Sam to give them some space, but what kind of privacy could they achieve with him around all the time?

This is terrible, but Castiel can’t spend the rest of the day hiding in the bathroom. He sniffles one last time before knocking back the last of his coffee. With a deep, steadying breath, he forces himself to straighten up and get started with the rest of his morning ritual; washing his face, brushing his teeth, and shaving. After putting on his deodorant, he packs up all his toiletries and drags his heels as he heads out of the bathroom.

A quick glance around the room tells him that Dean must still be outside on the phone. Sam, however, is still packing. He glances up and frowns. “You don’t look, or feel, that great.”

Castiel grimaces and turns away. “Turn off your empathy, _please_.”

“Did the talk with Dean not go well?” Sam glances over his shoulder at the door before leaning forward conspiratorially. “I thought he would have asked you out by now.”

He shrugs and starts picking through his bag for something to wear. “He said he wants to kiss me more.”

“And that’s a – a _bad_ thing?” Sam sounds appropriately confused, but repeating that just makes Castiel feel _worse_. “Cas, what’s wrong? I thought you liked –”

“I _do_ like him.” Castiel huffs and starts angrily pulling out the clothes he’s going to wear; ignoring how all the skinned parts of his hands and arms burn with every movement. “But I don’t think he likes _me._”

That startles Sam into a laugh, though it dies fairly quickly. “What? That’s ridiculous, Cas. Dean thinks the world of you.”

“But only as a _friend_.” He drops his bag and starts trying to step into his sweatpants. Those should be easier to put on and put less pressure on his skinned knees.

“What? Oh my God, Cas, no. That’s definitely not it.”

Sam abandons his bag on his bed and turns around. He crosses the room and opens the door. Dean is standing on the other side, back to the room and phone to his ear. He gives an unexpected squawk of surprise when Sam grabs the back of his coat and hauls him into the room.

“You need to talk to Cas. _Now_.” Sam plucks the phone from Dean’s hand and steps outside himself. “I’ll talk to Bobby.” Dean stumbles further into the room as Sam gives him a shove and steps out into the parking lot. He shuts the door with a pointed look back at them.

“What?” Dean looks around, confused. As soon as he lands on Castiel, his whole expression changes and he’s crossing the room in quick steps. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel has his shirt in hand and he wrings the fabric between his fingers, unable to meet Dean’s eyes. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Dean frowns and he slows his approach; demeanor changing into something calmer – _gentler_. “Why do you think you’re – _we’re_ – going to ruin it?”

“Because I like you and you –” He can’t even bring himself to put it into words. Castiel is too close to tears for that, but he does use his shirt to make a vague, angry gesture.

A stunned silence follows before Dean takes another step closer. “You think I don’t like you, Cas?” He looks just as worried as he sounds. “Of course I like you.”

But it’s not the same, is it? Because hearing that doesn’t make Castiel happy like he thought it would. God, how much of their friendship has he ruined? His breathing is picking up at an alarming rate and, belatedly, he realizes that he’s working himself up into an anxiety attack. He sits down heavily on the edge of the bed and puts his head between his knees in what is probably a vain attempt to calm himself down, given the current situation.

“Cas?” Dean comes to kneel in front of him. “You can tell me anything, you know?”

“I – I –” Castiel’s chest heaves, but he’s not getting enough air. “What if – I –”

A gentle hand lands on the back of his neck, thumb kneading lightly. “You haven’t let the ‘_what ifs_’ stop you from being friends with us, or travelling with us, or letting me touch your wings. Why are you going to let it stop you now?”

“Stop me from _what_?” He wheezes and lifts his head to look at Dean. The world is surprisingly blurry, and Castiel realizes that he’s actually tearing up again. He sniffles valiantly to try and stop it. “I don’t want to be _friends with benefits_.”

Dean’s eyebrows raise almost to his hairline. “Friends with –?” He rolls his lips between his teeth, as if that will somehow keep him from smiling or laughing. It fails spectacularly. “Cas. Do you really think that’s all I want?”

Castiel shrugs and his wings curve in over his shoulders. He sniffles again, but the tears are dangerously close to falling. “I don’t know what you want.” He shrugs again and looks down at his hands. “I don’t even know what _I_ want.” He just doesn’t want to lose Dean and Sam.

“So, then why did you kiss me?” Dean tilts his head to try and catch Castiel’s eye. “Was it just because emotions were running high last night?”

No, of course that’s not it. Well, it might have been part of it, but that wasn’t the _whole_ reason. Castiel shakes his head and sniffles again, rubbing at his cheeks to get rid of the evidence. It’s been a long, _long_ time since he cried this much.

“Do you –” Dean sighs and makes him lower his hands. “Do you want to kiss me again?”

He nods, and then stops to shake his head, only to pause and return to nodding, and then shakes his head again. Castiel has never been so indecisive.

Dean’s eyebrows come together in a frown. “Okay, uh – I –” He runs a hand through his hair and sits back on his heels. “Cas, I think you need to think about what you want.” Dean stands up and puts a hand on Castiel’s head. “Let me know what you figure out, okay?”

No, no, no, no, _no_. Castiel hates the disappointed tone in those words. He grabs the hem of Dean’s shirt and holds on, refusing to let him walk away. His throat feels horribly tight, but he still manages to find his voice as he leans his head against Dean’s stomach.

“What about you?”

“Aw, Cas.” Dean pets his hair with one hand and the curve of a wing with the other. “Is that what this is about? I definitely want more than that.”

Castiel huffs. “Since when?”

Dean hums in thought and drums his fingers against the top of his head. “Well, I’ve wanted to kiss you since day one.” He chuckles quietly, as if that’s funny to hear. “But then I wanted to cuddle you constantly, wrap you in soft things, and protect you forever by the end of that first visit. How’s that?”

That’s a lot to take in and it makes Castiel feel like he’s burning up. He loops both arms around Dean’s waist to pull him in closer, pressing his face into his stomach a little harder until he’s essentially surrounded by a band t-shirt and flannel.

“It’s okay, Cas.” Dean rakes his fingers through his hair. “The last thing I want to do is pressure you into anything you’re not ready for.”

“But –” But that’s making it really hard for Castiel not to fall head first into this.

“I’m serious.” Dean cups his face and makes him tilt his head back so they can actually look at each other. “No pushing, and no rushing. You take your time to figure your shit out. I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it.”

What? Castiel’s heart stutters in his chest and he sniffles away the last of the tears. “But –” But he has no follow up for that because Dean is making it very hard to stick to his list of _cons_ about pursuing a relationship between them.

Dean shushes him. “Listen, Cas. This is all new to you, and I get it.” He rubs a thumb under Castiel’s eye and smudges away the last of the tears. “But I just want you to know that I’m here, okay? You want to play games, look at the stars, watch movies, and talk all night? I’m here. You want to share a bed and spoon me at night? I’m here. You want to kiss me sometimes? I’m _definitely_ here. So, you sort things out and get over whatever it is you need to get over. I’ll be here.”

But – but is there really anything to _get over_? All Castiel has left is his fear that he’s going to ruin everything between them. He’s never been in a relationship before and look how much he’s screwed up already while they’re just _friends_. There’s so much to lose and now – Oh God, now he has the weight of this whole decision on his shoulders. He _hates_ that.

“Just think about it.” Dean dips down and kisses his forehead.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to _stop_ thinking about it.” Ever. For all eternity.

That makes Dean laugh again. It’s quiet, and huffy, and it makes Castiel’s toes tingle. They actually _curl_ when Dean kisses him again; a gentle press of their lips that makes his heart flutter almost painfully. He almost bites back a whine when Dean steps away again.

“Think about it and get back to me.”

Castiel wheezes and watches, a little dazed, as Dean grabs some bags and heads outside. Sam is still on the phone with Bobby. He looks hopeful when he sees Dean, but any conversation is cut off as the door swings shut.

Alone, Castiel is able to fully realize what just happened.

God. What in the _world_ did he just get himself into?

* * *

If he thought getting yelled at by Dean yesterday, which wasn’t even that bad, was the worst that could happen – he was _not_ prepared for Bobby.

Bobby doesn’t even yell. He sits Castiel down in front of his desk in his living room-slash-office and lectured him for a solid hour. A whole sixty minutes about how absolutely idiotic he had been. And, of course, he couldn’t say anything against it, because Bobby is right. He _was_ stupid, and he regrets it. Now he’s learned his lesson and he absolutely will _never_ do it again.

Unlike Bobby, Pam makes him spend a half hour sitting in the corner facing the wall. It was – Well, weird, is a good word for it. Weird, but effective. It gave him plenty of time to figure out what he was going to tell her afterwards, like she wanted him to. Castiel was supposed to reflect on what he did wrong and why he wouldn’t do it again.

He’s just lucky that she didn’t demand that he write her an essay on it.

Thankfully, that nightmare of discipline was followed up with more of those _amazing_ painkillers Dean has. Apparently, he felt sorry for him because he’s been on the receiving end of those lectures and time-out corners more times than he could actually recall. The stories he had about those times were enjoyable and really helped lull Castiel down into a prime napping mood.

Which means that he is now alone in Dean’s bedroom, curled up in his bed again. It smells like him, and that is _not helping_. Especially because his own feathers are hanging above the bed because Dean likes him so much that he wanted a piece of him in his _home_. He has his feathers, and they _kissed_. They kissed and Dean left Castiel to nap and think about it _alone_.

He rolls over to get his phone from the night stand. At least Bobby and Pam didn’t try to ground him and take his cell phone away.

Castiel glances at the door before dialing the number he’s had memorized since Anna got her first cell phone. He pulls a pillow under his chest and fidgets with a loose thread on the pillowcase while he listens to it ring.

Anna picks up on the third ring and Castiel doesn’t give her a chance to talk. “Hey, is Auntie with you?”

“_Uh – yes_?”

“Good. Are you both sitting?”

“_Oh God, what happened_? _Hold on. Let me get you on speakerphone._” There’s some shuffling in the background and Castiel recognizes the sound of the squeaky chair leg from their dining set. “_Okay, what’s up buttercup_?”

He takes a deep breath. “I did something stupid and I need your advice.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Thursday – September 27th, 2018_ **

It doesn’t take _that_ long to explain everything that happened yesterday and this morning, but by the end of it Castiel is nearly asleep with the phone pressed between his ear and the pillow. Despite having ended the story asking for their opinions on what he should do about his relationship with Dean, Aunt Amara _immediately_ launched into an angry rant about his disregard for his own safety.

From past experience, he knows not to interrupt her, but he definitely has to mute himself every now and then to hide his yawn. If she heard him yawn during a lecture, she would tear a strip out of him when he gets home again.

Anna knows better than to interrupt her mom, but every time Aunt Amara stops to take a breath, she chimes in with some _very_ unflattering names. It’s a testament to how mad his aunt is by the fact that she doesn’t berate Anna for some of her word choices.

Unlike Anna, Castiel waits until everyone is silent before finally speaking again. “The painkillers Dean gave me are strong and knocking me out.” He muffles a yawn under his hand. “Is there any advice you can give me about what to do with the Dean situation?”

“_For the love of_–” Anna groans loudly. “_Castiel, listen to me. You both want the same thing. Just. Date. Him._” She sounds as fed up as one can get. “_If you’ve managed to make your friendship work with the weird visitation schedule you guys have, then I’m sure you can make a relationship work._”

Aunt Amara gives a hum of agreement. “_You always overthink everything, sweetie._” Apparently, she’s done being angry with him and is back to using the pet names. “_Don’t overthink this too._”

“_Oh yes, he overthinks **everything**_.” Anna snorts a laugh. “_Everything except when it comes to the important stay-in-the-car type stuff. And definitely not the don’t-jump-off-a-roof stuff._”

Castiel runs a hand over his face and sighs heavily, but Aunt Amara talks over anything he might say. “_Do **not** get me started on that again._”

“Please –” He yawns again, eyes drifting closed. “– don’t.”

Anna gasps, sounding scandalized. “_Oh my God, are you falling **asleep** on us? How **rude!**_”

“Blame the drugs.” He shrugs and folds a wing over his shoulder. It’s the best he can do when his blanket can only really get pulled up to around his rib cage.

“_I knew it, honey._” Aunt Amara tsks in disappointment, though somewhat amused? Maybe he’s just hearing things. “_As soon as he started going out with his friends, I knew he’d fall in with a bad crowd. Doing dangerous things? Drugs? What’s next, Castiel? **Unprotected sex**?_”

That sends Anna into a fit of near hysterical laughter. Given the topic that Castiel wants to discuss with them, he can see why she finds that entertaining. If he were more awake, he might even smile over it. Or at least groan in embarrassment.

Instead, all he does is yawn again. “So, advice?”

There’s a moment of silence before Aunt Amara and Anna answer in unison. “_Go. Out. With. Him._”

Castiel sighs and rubs his knuckles into his eyes. “I’m going to hang up now.”

“_Just because you don’t like the advice is no reason to just hang up on us._” Anna huffs again. “_That’s so rude, you know_.”

“I’m hanging up because I’m falling asleep.” He doesn’t try to hide his yawn this time. “_And_ because you guys give dumb advice.”

He’s just teasing, but Anna grumbles unhappily. “_Oh, the next time I see you, I’m gonna –_”

“_Hush, sweetie._” Aunt Amara sounds almost serene. “_Just text Sam or Dean. They’ll make sure he gets his just desserts._”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to grumble. “Hate you.”

“_Love you too_.” She makes a kissing sound into the phone. “_I hope you feel better soon, kiddo_.”

“_I’m already texting Sam_.” Anna chimes in. Knowing her, she probably is.

Castiel rolls onto his stomach, hand coming up to bring the phone with his head as he tucks the pillow under his chin. “Just marry him already.”

“_Ew, no way. He’s got a crush on some British hunter-chick they’ve met a couple times._”

This is the first that he’s hearing of this. Sam never mentioned anything about this before, and it really makes him question how much Anna and Sam talk. “I’m going to ask about that later.” Castiel breathes a yawn out through his nose. “Goodnight.”

They’re in the midst of telling him goodnight when he hangs up on them. It’s a little rude, but he’s so tired that he doesn’t really care. In fact, it’s a miracle that he’s awake enough to get his phone plugged in to charge on the side table.

There’s a lot of things he wants to think about right now, but he’s fading fast. Which is nice, actually. Not thinking is a thing he doesn’t do a lot. Rarely does he drift off to sleep so peacefully.

* * *

The next time Castiel wakes up, it’s dark out through the window but Dean hasn’t joined him. It must be late in the evening and, judging by the rumble of his stomach, he missed supper.

He still aches as he gets out of bed, but it’s not as bad as it was from this morning. Castiel stretches his arms above his head and shuffles out into the living room to find both Winchesters sprawled out on the couches and watching some show that he doesn’t immediately recognize. He stops at the door to the bathroom and stares at the TV, trying to figure out what they’re watching. It takes far too long for him to recognize the characters.

“Are you watching _How I Met Your Mother_?” That’s a bit surprising, given that he’s sat through the half-hour long tag-team rant the Winchesters have regarding their feelings towards the ending of the series.

“Blame Sam. He’s the one who picked it.” Dean stretches out past the end of the couch before rolling over to look at Castiel. “How are you feeling?”

Castiel shrugs, rotating his shoulders and twisting at the waist. “Sore. Hungry.” He steps backwards into the bathroom. “Toilet.”

Dean chuckles to himself and pushes up off the couch. “Go on. I’ll heat up your supper.”

“Supper?” There’s no clock in his immediate eyeline, but he hopes he didn’t miss it by too long.

“It’s after ten o’clock, Cas.” Sam sits up into view. “We tried waking you up to eat, but you were out cold and didn’t even _move_.”

Really? He doesn’t remember anything like that. He must have really been out.

Castiel gives a thankful little wave before shutting the door to get to his business. By the time he’s done and coming out again, dinner is on the table and Dean is sitting in one of the chairs. The TV has been muted and the subtitles are on.

“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes courtesy of Bobby.” Dean gestures at the plate with one hand and props his cheek on the other. “Garlic bread and salad courtesy of our fridge.”

“Looks good.” Castiel sits down and picks up his fork. He pushes the mashed potatoes around a bit; mixing in the gravy. This might be a little too much for him right now, but he’ll eat what he can. His appetite hasn’t quite returned.

Apparently, he pokes at the potatoes for too long, because Dean huffs and leans forward. “Eat it all, Cas. You didn’t have breakfast either and I know for a _fact_ that all you had for lunch was a frikken _apple_.”

Sam is sitting up now and he looks over the back of the couch. “Speaking from experience, he’s not going to let you leave the table until you eat enough.”

Castiel sighs and very purposefully brings a forkful of mashed potatoes to his mouth. He over exaggerates every part of eating it and he stares Dean down the entire time. It has the intended purpose and Dean sits back with a smile, though it’s smugger than it should be.

Dean crosses his arms and his knees bump against Castiel’s under the table. “You going to hit the hay again after this?”

“I’m not tired.” Which shouldn’t be surprising. He’s been sleeping since the early afternoon.

“So, what?” He raises an eyebrow, more amused than annoyed. “You’re just going to stay up all night?”

“Maybe.” Castiel shrugs and turns his focus onto his meal instead of looking Dean in the eye. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

In answer, Dean presses their ankles together. It’s a point of heat through the fabric of his sweatpants and Castiel tries not to react to it. “Anything you want to talk about to help with the thinking process?”

“Not right now.” He shakes his head, but does look up at Dean from under his lashes. Hopefully it’s a look that helps put him at ease. The last thing Castiel wants to do is make it hard for Dean to get any rest tonight. “I just need – I need some _time_.” And he hopes that Dean can understand that.

Of course he does. Dean, bless him, doesn’t even look slightly disappointed. He only nods. “I got’cha.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “D’you want me to set up the couch for you?”

Castiel shrugs, unsure about what he’s going to do tonight. He thinks back to the conversation he had with Anna and Aunt Amara. They only had one suggestion for him, but it doesn’t feel quite right with him. Not yet, at least. He understands where they’re coming from, but it’s – it’s not that easy. Yes, they both like each other, but Castiel can’t shake this feeling of _dread_. There’s a nervous pit in his belly and he’s scared of it – scared of everything he could screw up.

They’re not even _dating _and Castiel has already screwed up so much. And Dean has been infuriatingly understanding about it all. Part of Castiel wishes that Dean would be angry and annoyed with him _just once_. All of this understanding is making it hard to not fall headfirst into the unknown.

The foot pressed against his taps once, twice, a third time. “You want anything to drink, Cas? I can get you some water. And I have non-drowsy painkillers for you too, if you want those.”

God, he’s such a boy scout. Is there anything he _doesn’t_ have?

Castiel doesn’t even get the chance to answer. Dean gets up anyways to go get it all for him. As soon as he’s out of the way, Sam turns and gives him an expectant look; eyebrows raised. What’s that look for? It’s not like Castiel has an answer for him. All he can do is shrug, duck his head, and go back to eating his dinner in silence.

Dean does bring him a glass of ice water and new pills, both of which he leaves on the table before sitting down with Sam again. They turn the volume back on and get back to watching their show. Castiel watches it on and off. He spends the rest of his dinner mostly lost in his thoughts, but at least not focusing on eating actually helps him get through the whole meal.

After a few episodes, Sam heads off to bed and Dean actually does set up the couch for the night. Castiel didn’t ask for it, but it might be what he needs. He does feel a little bad that he didn’t help, and that he spent most of the day sleeping.

“Alrighty, here you go.” Dean fluffs a pillow and drops it at one side of the couch. “You can sleep out here if you want to, but you’re always welcome in my room if you want to turn in again.” He flashes Castiel one of his warm smiles that always makes his insides go all wiggly.

“I know.” Castiel nods as he settles on the couch. “Thank you.”

Dean hands him the remote. “Feel free to use the TV all night. Just keep the volume at a reasonable level, okay?” He ruffles Castiel’s hair once more. “Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

He relaxes back into the couch with a pillow propped between his wings and stares at the TV. It might be awhile before he gets back to sleep, if at all. There’s a lot for him to think about.

* * *

** _Friday – September 28th, 2018_ **

Three o’clock in the morning comes and goes, and Castiel finally turns off the TV. It leaves him sitting in the dark, which just about matches how he feels. No matter how much he thinks about it, he can’t _really _think his way out of this. Because he already knows the answer. He’s _scared_ and it’s that fear keeping him from just – just _giving in_.

The lights of the boxes under the TV blinking occasionally and Castiel has no idea how long he watches them. Eventually he decides to _maybe_ try and get some sleep. It seems like a good idea, and he really is just… exhausted. Mentally. Not so much physically, but being horizontal might trick his body into thinking that too.

With a sigh, Castiel stands up and pulls the blanket back on the couch, and then he stops. He stares at the pillow and the sheets waiting for him and – and they look comfortable but he knows they’ll feel wrong. This isn’t where he wants to sleep.

There’s a certain level of resignation as he flips the blanket back into place. He feels his way out of the living room and shuffles up the hall. Both doors are shut and he hesitates with his hand on the knob to Dean’s bedroom. It’s been hours, so he _must _be asleep, right?

Castiel bites his lip and slips as quietly into the room as possible. There’s very little light coming through the window; the curtains pulled only partially closed. Thankfully, it’s enough for him to see by and he makes his way to the edge of the bed. Dean is sleeping on the other side, his back to him. And then he hesitates _again_.

Is this actually a good idea? Maybe he should –

His thoughts stop dead in their tracks when Dean reaches back without turning over and flips the blanket back. The space left for him is open and inviting and Castiel is a weak, weak man. He chews his lip for only a moment before slipping under the blanket and drawing it over himself again. He doesn’t even pause before he’s tucking up against Dean’s back and pressing his face into the back of his neck.

Dean hums lowly and seeks out Castiel’s arm to pull over his chest. “Thought things through?” His voice is thick and slurred with sleep.

Castiel doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t shake his head either. He does, however, whisper into the short hairs at the base of his skull. “I’m scared of messing this up. I don’t want to ruin things between us.”

“Hm.” Dean hums again and wiggles back against his chest. “Wing me.”

It takes a moment for him to realize what that means. Dean groans a happy sound as Castiel folds his wing over the both of them. The fingers of his free hand sink into the feathers and stroke gently. It’s nice and Dean is _so warm_. He’s not wearing a shirt to bed tonight and Castiel can feel the pits and grooves of every scar along his back. There’s something wonderful about Dean being so comfortable with him that he doesn’t seem to mind it.

He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. “Is it – Can we – Are we able to just stay friends?”

“Nope.” Dean actually has the gall to _laugh_, though sleepily. He draws the hand on his chest up to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to the gauze there. “Y’like me too much, ‘n I like you too much.”

Dammit. Castiel knew that would be a problem.

He grumbles quietly to himself and nuzzles his forehead against the back of Dean’s head. “You’re making this really hard for me.”

“Mhmm.” Even in the dark and half asleep, Dean manages to be very smug about the whole thing as he links their fingers together, his hand curved to the back of Castiel’s. He breathes deep and relaxes fully into Castiel’s chest. “Just take as long as y’need, Cas. Go slow.”

“But you – Is that what _you _want?” A relationship isn’t just about _him_. It’s a two-way street and he wants to know what _Dean_ wants.

It’s a long time before he gets his answer – long enough that he thinks Dean fell asleep again. But then Dean is pulling away and turning onto his back. He lets go of Castiel’s hand and wiggles his arm under and around his shoulders, using it to guide him up against his side. Castiel settles with his head on Dean’s shoulder and his wing over them again. He throws an arm over Dean’s chest again.

The chest under his cheek swells with a deep breath and he can feel the exhale ruffle his hair. “I’m not going to push you.”

“But what if –”

“Shh.” Dean shushes him by flopping his hand over his whole face, bumping his nose a little harder than probably meant. “Just shh. Sleep now.”

Castiel closes his eyes with a sigh and pushes Dean’s hand away. It doesn’t go far; twisting to catch his so their fingers can link again and come to a rest on his chest. His heart is beating a steady rhythm and Castiel focuses on the feeling of it through the pads of his fingers.

Dean is going to be the death of him, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

* * *

** _Sunday – September 30th, 2018_ **

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“It’s a _great_ idea.” Dean grins up at him, hands on his hips and the breeze valiantly trying to fight the mousse in his hair. “C’mon, give it a shot!”

Castiel steps up to the edge of the platform and looks down. It’s only a matter of seven or eight feet, but it feels like a mile stretching between him and the ground. It makes his knees go weak and he steps back again, looking up to search Sam out where he’s standing several feet behind Dean.

“Sam?” Hopefully_ he _will be the voice of reason and see how this can’t possibly be a good idea.

His hopes plummet the mile (7 feet) to the ground when Sam shakes his head. “Sorry, Cas. I agree with Dean. This is a great idea.” He holds up both of his hands, palms out. “Do it. I’ve got you covered.”

“But what if I can’t –?”

“You can.” Dean raises both arms above his head. “You know you can, because you already did it once!”

“I wasn’t _thinking_ when I did it before!” Castiel folds his wings tight to his back, hiding how his feathers are shaking with nerves.

Dean sighs loudly and drops his arms. “Then don’t think about it _now_.” He flexes, striking a ridiculous pose. “Just _do it_.”

“I –” Castiel swallows thickly and shuffles up to the edge of the platform again. He can do this. “I – I’m going to do it.”

“Great!” Dean bounces in place and holds his arms out again. “I’ll catch you.”

“And I’ll slow you down if we need to.” Sam chimes in; his smile wide and encouraging.

That does take away some of the fear involved with this, but Castiel still has a night ball of worry in his chest. It’s a much shorter fall to the ground than it was when he jumped from the roof, but he’s still not totally happy to have been coerced into climbing up here in the first place.

“I want the record to show that I _do not like this_.”

Dean is undeterred. “If you’re going to hunt with us and keep pulling stupid crap then I want to make sure that you’re able to get away without dropping like a damn rock.”

Castiel groans and takes a deep breath. He counts himself down; one, two, and – Jump. His wings spread out to slow the drop, and he’s not sure if it’s them or Sam that do it. At this point in his molt, most of his feathers are still fairly short. And, yet, it doesn’t feel like he’s falling as fast as he should be. It’s still a rather quick drop – right into Dean’s arms, though he doesn’t so much as catch Castiel as he does guide him down to his feet again.

“That was great!” Dean squeezes his hand before letting go. “Now do it again without Sam using his telekinesis on you.”

Sam huffs and crosses his arms. “It was only a little bit.”

“It’s not even that big of a drop.” Dean rolls his eyes and gestures between the ground and the part of the obstacle course Castiel just jumped from. “You won’t get hurt falling from that height.”

Castiel groans as he’s shoved towards the little ladder leading up to the platform. “I _hate_ this.”

“It’s _penance_!” Dean calls after him, followed by a peal of laughter. He’s really enjoying himself too much with all this.

On the bright side, now that he’s jumped once, it’s not so bad to do it again. And again. And _again_. Castiel repeats the jump several times before Dean decides to change things up. The only reason he’s listening is because the Winchesters _are_ right. If he wants to hunt with them, though not professionally, he could be better trained – and that includes being able to use his wings when he needs to.

“Okay, now this time you should try _flapping_.” Dean pinches one of his primaries and tugs to make him spread his wing out. It looks stupid with some of the primaries and secondaries longer than others and some even shorter because they’ve molted already. “I’m going to stand farther back and I want you to stay in the air enough to flap over to me.”

“Flying.” Castiel stares at him, mouth open. “You want me to _fly_.”

Dean’s grin grows so wide that it crinkles the corner of his eyes. “_Exactly_.”

In all thirty-one years of his life, Castiel has _never _flown and his heart starts hammering hard against his ribs at the mere thought of it. A cold sweat breaks out down his back and his mind starts racing searching for some excuse – _any_ excuse – to not have to do this.

He looks to Sam for some kind of support only to be met with a teasing smile and the same determined eyes as Dean. “It’s all part of your training, Cas. Be happy that we agreed you’re still too roughed up from the other night to run the obstacle course again.”

“As soon as those scrapes on your hands are gone, you bet your ass you’re running this puppy again.” Dean crosses his arms and nods, as if that somehow confirms the decision. One that was entirely made _without_ Castiel’s input.

With a groan, he turns back to the ladder and trudges over to it. “I would rather practice at the range again. Can we go do that?” Although he might not be able to hold it and brace against the kickback with his palms as they are.

“_After _this. First it’s flap-flap time!”

* * *

In total, they spend a solid hour getting him as close to flying as they possibly can. By the end, Castiel is able to glide fairly well and he gets more distance with every jump. He still loathes the idea of having to do it from a greater height, but this wasn’t so bad. It was made all the easier by having Dean be his goal to fly (glide) to.

As promised, they take him to the gun range afterwards. It is a little difficult to hold the gun, but Castiel does his best and grits his teeth against any sting. Thankfully, it seems he hasn’t forgotten any of his training in this particular regard. Dean only has to correct his stance once through the couple of clips they have him go through.

He does fairly well, in his opinion, even with how distracted he gets after Dean adjusts his stance. Castiel nearly bit through his tongue when Dean cupped the inside of his thigh just above the knee to make him spread his legs just a little bit wider. It was a quick, barely-there touch before it was gone, but it stalled his whole brain for a few seconds and threw off the next shot. He corrected it quickly and did his best to put it entirely out of his mind.

It would have been a lot easier to do if he wasn’t also concerned with how Dean has kept a certain amount of distance between them since their first night here. Castiel is still sharing his bed, and they cuddled to sleep last night, but Dean hasn’t done anything to remind him of the kiss they shared. Let alone the fact that they essentially confessed to each other.

Sam told him not to act like it never happened, but did he say the same thing to Dean? Because it sure feels like that’s what he’s doing. He’s not _pushing_ like he promised, but Castiel almost wishes that he would push a little bit. It would make it easier on him, that’s for sure. Because -

Because doesn’t this bother Dean as much as it does him?

* * *

** _Friday – October 5th, 2018_ **

The table jostles slightly as Sam drops down into the opposite chair, his laptop in hand. He puts it down and taps away at the keys, ignoring Castiel entirely while he’s wrapping up transcribing a recording. The moment he takes his headphones off, Sam’s attention is on him.

“I found a new hunt.” Sam turns the laptop around for him to see the database where the hunts get posted. “How about it? A new chance to rebuild some broken trust.” Castiel leans forward to scan through the information, though Sam reads it out like he has it memorized. “It’s cut and dry. Tracking down a Human bond jumper. Quick, simple, and not even half as dangerous as facing down a Mutant.”

Ah, that explains their behaviour this morning – and why Dean rushed out of here not long after breakfast. “Is Dean grocery shopping?”

“Yep.” Sam nods and turns his laptop around again. “He’s getting gas and fueling up the Impala. This hunt is between us and _Lawrence_, so we figured we could pick it up on the way to dropping you off.” He pauses and looks over the top of his laptop. “That is… _if _you’re actually going to _follow our rules_.”

This is going to be one of those things that Castiel is never going to hear the end of, isn’t it? Castiel sighs and holds up one hand; the other he lays over his heart. “I solemnly swear to be on my best behaviour and not do a single thing unless explicitly told to do it.”

Sam continues to stare him down for a few moments, his mouth screwed up in thought. “And what if Dean decides to leave you at the motel?”

“Then I will stay at the motel.”

An eyebrow goes up. “And if he says to stay in the car?”

“Then I will stay in the car.”

After another moment, Sam holds out his hand with only his pinky finger raised. “Swearsies?”

For the love of – Castiel snorts and rolls his eyes as he hooks his pinky finger around Sam’s. “Swearsies.” But he has the feeling that this isn’t the last he’s going to go over this with either Winchester before they even get to the hunt.

* * *

It comes as a surprise to no one that Dean wants Castiel to stay at the motel once they arrive. That’s fine by him, as it gives him a chance to take over the kitchenette as his workstation and catch up on all the editing work he’s been neglecting the past week. He keeps up on his daily transcribing because those are time sensitive, but his current manuscript to edit has a deadline a few weeks out and he’s not _that_ worried about it at the moment.

Castiel doesn’t even think twice about the Winchesters once they head out on their hunt. The paranoia and worry are on a back burner in the very far back of his mind; so quiet that he almost doesn’t even know they’re there. The Winchesters are hunting a low-risk target; a white-collar criminal who failed to show up for his court hearing after posting bail. Since the police haven’t been able to locate him in a set amount of time, a bounty was issued.

This isn’t the kind of hunt that pays big money, but it doesn’t hurt to pick up a quick job like this when they’re in the area.

Of all the places in his life he thought he might be at some point, Castiel never expected to be here or ever thought he would know about this kind of stuff. He’s not even worried that someone from the motel might come into his room unannounced. For being alone and far from home, his anxieties are sitting pretty low right now and he’s fairly content to just chug away at his work.

A couple text messages come in right around when he’s considering whether or not he should make himself supper and eat without the Winchesters. Castiel reads it and immediately gets up to put together a sandwich and heat up some soup in the microwave.

_Caught the trail of the guy we’re after._

_Pretty sure we can catch him tonight._

_Eat & don’t wait up!_

** _Be careful._ ** _  
Read 7:46pm_

Dean replies with a handful of silly emojis mostly consisting of kissy-faces and heart-eyes. Castiel leans his hip against the kitchenette counter and stares at those emojis for far longer than he probably should; his thumbs poised over his emoji keyboard as he debates whether or not to send some of his own back.

He decides against it and puts his phone away when the microwaves beeps.

Things with Dean are in a weird space. Castiel is still wobbling back and forth on the fence between friendship and relationship. He doesn’t want to lead Dean on, but fear is a _big_ factor holding him back. It’s not like Castiel _wants_ to be afraid, but –

With a sigh, he shakes his head to knock those thoughts aside. He’s gone over the _buts _and the _what ifs_ a thousand times, and he’s no closer to coming to a decision. It’s both nice and horrible that Dean is giving him the space to make the decision on his own. Castiel _misses_ Dean being more touchy-feely with him. He didn’t realize how much Dean touched him throughout the day until he was deprived of everything but being cuddled to sleep.

God, it’s going to be so _hard_ to sleep on his own in Lawrence again. If all goes well with this hunt, they’ll be leaving for Lawrence in the morning and the Winchesters aren’t planning on staying the night. They were already looking at more hunts to pick up on the drive here, hoping to stop slacking as much as they have been lately.

Castiel feels partially responsible for that and he’s forcing himself to accept the fact that he probably won’t see the Winchesters again for the whole of October. At least he knows that they’ll be back in time for November 2nd so they can visit their mother’s grave again. But that’s still nearly a whole month away and that feels like _forever_ to see either of them again.

Maybe it’s a good thing, though? Being separated from Dean might help Castiel figure things out. Some distance will give him a chance to breathe, and maybe he’ll stop feeling like his hesitance is hurting Dean somehow. Because _that’s_ a looming specter hanging over his head that scares him more than someone unknown walking into the motel room right now – which says a lot.

God, what if he _is_ hurting Dean? He’s indecisive at the best of times, but now?

_Shit_.

Castiel fishes his phone out while balancing a bowl of soup and a plated sandwich in his other hand; taking it all to the table to sit and eat. He could message Dean and ask him point blank, but he’s not sure he would get the truth if he did.

Instead, he messages Sam.

** _I know you’re busy, so please don’t feel  
that you need to answer this now…_ **

** _But how okay is Dean really with me needing  
time to… figure myself out?_ ** _  
Read 7:54pm_

_You should probably ask him that._

** _I don’t think he’ll give me an honest answer._ **

** _He’s intent on not pushing me and insists  
that I make a decision in my own time.  
_ ** _Read 7:58pm_

_SIGH_

_You two…_

_I thought you guys were communicating!_

** _We are._ **

** _About most things…_ ** _  
Read 8:01pm_

_He wants you to be happy._

** _I know…_ **

** _But…_ ** _  
Read 8:03pm_

_Cas._

_He wants you to be happy._

_He’s not going to push you._

** _But is he OKAY with this?_ ** _  
Read 8:07pm_

_Yes, he’s fine._

_He’s worried and maybe a little frustrated…  
But he’s not an asshole and he’s not going to  
try and force you into something you’re not  
ready for._

_You’re definitely the most difficult person he’s  
ever dated._

** _Thank you, Sam._ ** _  
Read 8:11pm_

His sandwich is mostly eaten and his soup has gone cold by the time he puts his phone down. That’s about the information that he was hoping to get and – And is it bad that it makes him feel a little better? It’s kind of nice to know that this whole situation actually bothers Dean. He’s seemed so unruffled by everything that this weirdly helps somehow.

There’s still this huge thing to think about, and a big decision that needs to be made, and that’s absolutely _terrifying_, but he’ll take the good feelings where he can get them right now.

* * *

** _Saturday – October 6th, 2018_ **

As predicted, the hunt was finished overnight. Dean and Sam returned to the room not long after midnight and, like they planned, they set out in the morning. Like last time, a knot of tension just _let’s go_ the moment they pull into sight of the house. Castiel is so used to being on edge that he didn’t even notice how tense he felt while away.

It just makes it all the sweeter to be home.

Dean and Sam are talking logistics in the front seat about the route to their next hunt while Castiel unloads his two suitcases from the trunk of the Impala. He’s not even got the first one out when the front door to the house bursts open and Anna comes bounding out, practically vibrating with excitement as she runs towards him.

“You’re here!”

Castiel barely has the time to put the suitcase down before his arms are full of excitable cousin. She throws her arms around his neck in a hug. “Welcome home!” Just as quickly, she pulls back and her eyes are all but sparkling with mischief. “How’s it _go-o-o-o-o-oing_?”

If her tone wasn’t enough of an indication to what she’s hinting at, then the way she draws out her words and waggles her eyebrows would be more than enough.

“Fine.” Castiel ducks out of her arms to get his last suitcase, but he does give her a dark look over his shoulder; voice dropped into a whisper. “And _stop it_.”

Anna beams up at him; eyes bright and innocent. “Stop _what_?”

“You _know_ what.” He hisses at her and drops his other bag to steer her a few steps away from the car when Sam’s door swings open. “Nothing has happened and nothing will _ever_ happen if you make a scene about it.”

She backs off with her hands held up. “I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about.”

With that, she teleports away. Castiel turns around to find her already in the process of hugging Sam. “Hello!” She’s gone in a blink to Dean’s side, where he’s half-out of the car. As soon as he’s upright, she hugs him too. “Are you guys sticking around?”

“Not today.” Dean slings an arm over her shoulders and leans his weight into her. “We’re just dropping Cas off, using the facilities, and heading on out again. Sammy found us another hunt down in Louisiana, so we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“He’s already excited about gumbo and crawfish.” Sam sighs as he grabs one of Castiel’s bags and starts carrying it towards the house. “I’m not going to hear the end of it until he actually gets to eat some.”

Castiel carries the other bag as Dean and Anna follow, chatting between themselves about the different types of Louisiana-specific food he wants to eat. Anna seems more interested in hearing about the hunt they’re picking up, but she can’t deter Dean when his stomach has focused on food.

Even though he can hear the conversation clearly, Castiel still slows his step enough that he can keep an eye on Anna and make sure she doesn’t say something stupid. She can get excitable about a lot of topics and who knows what kind of trouble her mouth could cause.

To his surprise, she doesn’t say anything about the situation between him and Dean until_ after _the Winchesters have left. They’re gone within the hour and the goodbye hug with Dean leaves Castiel with a bitter taste in his mouth. That urge to _kiss him goodbye_ is still lingering, stronger than it’s ever been.

As soon as the Impala is out of sight from the front step of the house, Anna turns on him. “I got you a present!” She grabs his hand and starts dragging him inside.

“It’s not my birthday or Christmas.” And those are the only times it’s acceptable to get him a gift. Any surprises throughout the year just makes him feel bad for not being the kind of person who just ‘_stumbles’_ on something that he thinks someone else would like while shopping. The most he’s able to do is buy food or snacks that he thinks Anna or Aunt Amara might like when they’re visiting.

“Come on!” Anna tugs him up the stairs and into the living room.

She forces him to sit down in the center of the couch before blinking away to go get the present wherever she hid it. Castiel doesn’t have long to wait before she’s back and sitting on the coffee table in front of him. She puts a box in his lap. “Here, this is for you!”

He sighs heavily and starts pulling the top of the box apart from where the flaps have been folded together. After all these years, he knows better than to try and refuse this. Except… That’s exactly what he does the moment he sees what’s inside.

“No.” Castiel shakes his head and pushes the box back into her hands. “No, thank you.”

“No, no, no.” Anna tries to make him take it back but he draws his knees up and crosses his arms so she can’t do it. “C’mon! You need to _go through it_.”

He shakes his head even harder. “I am _not_ going through it.”

She sighs and opens the box herself. Castiel groans when it becomes apparent that she’s going to start pulling things out of it. He makes to stand up, but she pushes him back down. “We’re doing this. Stay.”

“I don’t _want _to –” Castiel’s complaint is met with a handful of pamphlets getting shoved in his face.

“You’re going to need to read these.” Anna is already on to the next contents of the box. “And you should go to the websites they list. You can read up on all the safe ways to have butt sex.”

“_Anna_!” He throws the pamphlets onto the cushion next to him. This is _not_ a conversation that Castiel wants to have with Anna, or Aunt Amara, or _anyone_ for that matter.

She doesn’t even acknowledge his scandalized tone. “And when you’re ready, you can use these!” To his horror, she pulls string after string of condom packages out of the box and promptly throws them up in the air as if they were streamers. They fall around them in a sham of a party.

Castiel covers his face with both hands and groans. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Oh, and you’re _definitely_ going to need _this_.”

He shouldn’t do it, but he does. He peeks through his fingers and can actually _feel_ how his face heats up as Anna takes two obscenely large bottles of honest-to-God _lube_ from the box.

“This one is water-based and this one is silicone-based.” She follows them up with yet another piece of paper. “This explains the difference between them and which is better. I read it and it sounds like silicone is better, but you shouldn’t use it with a silicone-based toy or it will degrade the –”

Oh dear God, _no_. Castiel stands up sharply. “If you pull a toy out of that box, I swear to –”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” Anna puts the box aside, apparently finished with it. “I didn’t buy you anything like that. You and Dean should do that kind of shopping together.”

She winks at him and Castiel grabs one of the ropes of condoms to whip it at her. “I can’t _believe _you!” He has never been more embarrassed in his _life_. “I’m not even sure if I’m going to go out with Dean, and you went and did _this_!”

That seems to get her attention; her mouth dropping open and leaving her silent for a moment. “You – You – _What_? Oh _come on_.” Anna stands up too. “You guys like each other! What’s stopping you?”

“I’m not explaining that to _you_.” Castiel’s feathers fluff, tripling the size of his wings as they arch and spread slightly. “Not after _that_.” He points accusingly at the box; hating its entire existence.

“But –”

“And for _that_ –” Another sharp gesture at the box. “– you’re banned for _at least_ one week. Auntie can come over, but you _can’t_.”

Anna’s whole demeanor wilts in that instant. “But –”

Castiel doesn’t want to hear it. He turns on his heel and starts walking away. “I’m going to go take a long bath. You and your box of nightmares had better be gone when I come out.”

“But _Cas_ –!” She calls after him again, but follows it up with nothing that would make him stay when he’s _this_ angry.

He leaves her floundering for some kind of excuse for her actions. Whether this was meant as a prank, or as a serious attempt to help him out, Castiel is _not_ in the mood for it. This whole situation with Dean is a sore point for him right now and no one seems to understand _why_ he finds it so difficult. No one understands why he’s _scared_.

But Anna crossed a line. She does it often, but this one she left in the dust. It’s hard enough for him to put one of his most precious relationships on the line for something that he’s terrified will fail, but having her poke fun at him for her own amusement is too much for him to tolerate.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Saturday – October 6th, 2018_ **

It’s nearly an hour later when Castiel finally comes out of the bathroom. His clothing is in his arms and a towel is wrapped around his waist. He has another towel draped over his wings to help them dry faster. They’ve been air drying for a while now, but they’re still fairly damp.

At first, he had taken a shower to soak his wings and deal with the itch that he’s been ignoring all day. It was nice to just sit under the spray and collect his thoughts. Castiel followed the shower up with a long soak in the tub. He definitely used up all the hot water, but at least he feels infinitely better now.

To his surprise, Anna is nowhere to be found. He’s somewhat impressed to find that she actually did as told. She did, however, leave a note taped to his bedroom door. It’s simply a large sad face with _I’m Sorry_ scribbled beneath it. If she thinks this kind of apology will be enough, then she’s sorely mistaken.

He empties the pockets of his pants before tossing them into the hamper. There are four missed text messages from Anna, all very apologetic and promising that she’ll keep her nose out of his business concerning Dean. They’re better than the note on the door, but he’s still not going to back down on the ban. He has to stick to the punishment or she’ll never learn.

There are also two messages from Aunt Amara; one is an exasperated emoji. The next is actual words: _I told her it was a bad idea. I’ll come over tomorrow after work for an early dinner._

It will be nice to see her again.

He replies with a thumbs up before tossing his phone onto the bed. It bounces across the blanket and comes to rest next to the damn _box_. Castiel glares at it; his hands on his hips. She actually left him the stupid thing? _Ugh_.

With a sigh, he picks it up and dumps the contents out. He could have just tossed it all in the trash, but – But there’s something holding him back from doing that and he really doesn’t want to think too hard about it.

Castiel sits on the edge of the bed and sorts through it all with a frown. There are five strings of condoms, each with ten condoms on them. Dear God. She got him _fifty condoms_. How much sex did she think he was going to have with Dean!? And Castiel hasn’t even let himself _think_ about sex with Dean. It just felt wrong to think about his best friend like that, especially since he’s been trying to ignore all the parts of him that _want _Dean.

Grumbling to himself, he sweeps the condoms straight into the near-empty bottom drawer of his bedside table. The two bottles of lube follow them. Next up is the pamphlets, but Castiel hesitates with the first one he picks up. While he _has_ watched homosexual porn before, he’s well aware that those videos aren’t exactly about _safe sex_. The severe lack of condoms in most videos is proof enough of that.

Maybe he _should_ watch a video on how to have safe sex with a man? It would probably be more informational than the one where the babysitter couldn’t pay the pizza delivery man and ended up getting bent over the back of the sofa. In that video, the barely-legal babysitter was spanked as a reprimand for ordering when he knew that he didn’t have enough money to pay for the pizza. The spanking was immediately followed up with penetration, and there was little to no prep involved.

As inexperienced as he is, Castiel _knows_ that preparation is needed. He’s just never bothered to look into how much, or the best way to do it. And yet, here in his hand he holds that very information.

Should he…?

Castiel chews his bottom lip and glances at the door. Anna isn’t here and he’s home alone. The Winchesters are gone and there’s no one around to see him read these. So, what’s the harm?

With a deep breath, he opens the first pamphlet and then immediately folds it closed and throws it straight into the drawer. In no universe is he prepared enough to read about how to cleanse your insides to save your partner from _poop-dick_. That was literally one of the first words he saw along with some illustrations that would normally be amusing were he not _horrified_.

The second pamphlet is a lot tamer and strictly about condom use and other methods of protection to prevent the spread of HIV and other STIs. Now _this_ is information Castiel mostly knows, but he still skims through it anyways as a refresher before tossing it in the drawer too.

Like the first, the third pamphlet talks about preparation. Thankfully, it’s not remotely as ostentatious as the other one – especially when it talks about anal douching. That part makes him feel queasy, so he only glances through that information before skipping to the part that talks about how to prepare oneself with fingers or toys. It even has a helpful picture list of what would be beneficial for the prepping process – especially if prepping alone.

Castiel reads through it, fascinated. The pamphlet even talks about ways to stimulate the prostate both internally _and _externally. He wasn’t aware he could do that from the outside, and he’s only dabbled in fingering himself once or twice. It didn’t do much for him, but masturbating is a rare thing for him and he’s not surprised.

The pamphlet is _very_ descriptive about how to use your fingers for preparation. It explains the best position and angle to do it both on your own and with a partner. Castiel’s mouth goes dry reading it. In his mind’s eye, he sees himself helping Dean – or Dean helping him. His imagination can’t seem to settle on a decision; flip flopping over which one of them is bent over the back of the couch in the apartment in _Sioux Falls_.

In his mind, when Castiel is grabbing handfuls of couch cushions and pushing up onto his toes to gain some kind of balance, his wings are arching to the ceiling as Dean works him open with careful fingers. His breath is hot on his back and his free hand is pushing deep into the down of his wings, gently kneading at his oil glands because – for some god-forsaken reason – it feels _so incredibly good_ whenever Dean touches them.

His wings twitch hard beneath the towel and his next breath is a little rougher than intended.

What would it be like if Dean spanked him a little, like what the pizza man did to the babysitter? Oh, the idea sends a little shiver up his spine and he exhales hard through his nose, eyes closed as he reels himself back in.

When he opens his eyes again, he stares down at his lap and how he’s starting to tent that towel.

“How in the _world_ did _this_ –” Castiel shakes the pamphlet at his lap. “– turn you on?”

Of course he doesn’t get an answer, but he’s still annoyed. His libido has always been naturally low and it’s usually pretty silent, but sometimes it’s like it has a mind of its own. Castiel rarely gets aroused, and he assumed he fell somewhere on the asexual spectrum. He never cared enough to delve further into figuring out the label that fit him. Not even now. But this? This is just dumb. It’s _ridiculous_.

“A little bit of fantasizing about Dean and you’re raring to go?” He grumbles and tosses the last of the pamphlets into the drawer. “You’re a traitorous little –” The rest of his complaining is lost in a groan as he stands up and stretches.

His wings droop enough for the towel to slip off of them. Castiel shakes them out and reaches back to feel through the feathers; frowning at how damp they still are. Oh well, they’ll dry eventually. He gathers the towel he dropped and removes the one he’s wearing – both going straight into the laundry bin again.

The air of the room is cool on his cock and he stops in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection of it for a moment. “No.” He turns away and shakes his head. “I’m not going to do this.”

Castiel pointedly ignores his erection while finding something to wear for the rest of the day. Pajama pants should suffice. No one is supposed to be coming over today, so it’s not like he really needs to be presentable. And, if he gets cold, he has a portable heater that he can set up next to him so he’s not heating the whole house just because he doesn’t feel like wearing a shirt tonight.

One would think, by the time he’s unpacked his suitcase and pulled out a pair of pajama pants, that his dick would have gotten the message. But it persists in a very annoying, very distracting fashion. A fire has been lit under his libido and it’s not going to calm the hell down unless he does something about it. And all because he imagined something involving Dean?

The mere thought of Dean again – not even imagining anything – sends a little spike of heat through his gut. Castiel groans and drops onto the edge of the bed. He’s really going to have to do something about this, isn’t he?

Well, as long as he doesn’t think about Dean again, it should be fine.

Since Anna gave him some supplies, he might as well use them. Castiel pulls one of the bottles of lube from the drawer, not caring which one it is. It’s more slippery than expected and he squishes it between his fingers a bit.

Alright then.

He can’t remember the last time he _needed_ to jerk off. It’s been a while, but this should be easy – easy, like riding a bike. A piece of cake. Easy as pie.

Castiel takes himself in hand and starts stroking. He closes his eyes to focus on the feeling and keep his mind blank. Because if he thinks of Dean, then he’s masturbating to thoughts of him and that – that’s just not right. Not to him. Not when they’re still _just friends_.

But it doesn’t feel good – or _as_ good as he would expect.

Masturbating was better the last time he did this, wasn’t it? What was he doing that made it better? It couldn’t have been the porn, could it? The visual helped, and Castiel can’t deny that the noises helped too. Even if he would close his eyes and just _listen_, he could get off to the sound of skin slapping against skin; the wet squelch of lube; the gasping, desperate whines.

_God, yes_.

Maybe he should get his phone to help. Porn could help keep Dean out of his mind, especially if he picked a video with people who look _nothing_ like him. Then he wouldn’t accidentally imagine that it’s the two of them in the video; Dean on his knees in front of him and pressing nibbling, sucking kisses along his thighs, working his way up to his cock. Dean definitely seems like he’d love to tease Castiel; work him up until his begging for it.

That sends lightning straight down his spine, through his stomach, and right to his cock. Castiel groans and tilts his head back; the fingers of his free hand digging into his thigh.

And then he stops – freezing entirely.

No! Those are _bad thoughts_. He’s not supposed to think about Dean!

Don’t think about Dean.

Don’t think about Dean.

_Don’t think about Dean_.

Don’t think about Dean’s scarred hands caressing his thighs and pushing them wider to make space for himself. Don’t think about how hot his breath would be on Castiel’s cock; his eyes dark as he looks up at him right before taking him in his mouth.

_God_.

A wrecked, bitten off moan claws its way out of Castiel’s throat.

What would that even feel like? Warm and wet, probably. It sounds like heaven.

How many blowjobs has Dean given before? Would he know how to use his tongue? Castiel doesn’t doubt that he’s probably been with other men. He must have _some _experience in a situation like this. And – And that’s kind of sexy, actually. Castiel _likes_ the idea of Dean knowing exactly what he’s doing. Dean would know just want to do to make him feel good, and he would of course be able to show Castiel what to do to make _him_ feel good too.

It’s so easy to picture it and his imagination takes the opportunity to just go _haywire_.

Castiel can’t stop himself from thinking about how Dean could walk him through giving his first blowjob; a hand in his hair pulled just tight enough to sting only a little bit as he guides him in how to move his head. That rough voice would direct him on what to do with his lips and tongue; telling him how to relax his throat and breathe through his nose.

What would Dean taste like? How would it feel to have the weight of him on his tongue? Would Dean move when on the receiving end; hips rolling in little thrusts, back arching, head thrown back? Or would he watch, unable to look away?

What would his scars feel like against Castiel’s skin when they’re moving together; when Dean is writhing beneath him, gripping at the sheets and rocking up into each thrust? Would he talk through it or be quiet? Just heavy, panting breaths huffed into Castiel’s shoulder.

Is it getting hot in here? Sweat is breaking out across Castiel’s body. His chest is heaving; his mouth open and gasping. He leans back on his free hand and braces his feet against the floor; hips rolling to thrust up into the grip he has on his erection. With every thrust, Castiel twists his wrist to roll his palm over the head of his cock. It sends static shivers pulsing under his skin.

A low whine is building in the back of his throat. He can feel his belly tightening; balls tingling. Heat is filling his bones and what sends him over the edge is thinking about Dean whispering soft praise into his ear as he holds him close and works him into orgasm.

It takes Castiel a while to come down from that. The first thing he focuses on is the mess on his hand and thighs. Then his thoughts clear and he realizes exactly what he’s just done.

He groans and rubs his clean hand over his face. “_Weak_, Castiel.” He stands up to get one of the abandoned towels from the hamper. “You’re _stronger_ than this.” Castiel wipes himself clean, frowning at his reflection the whole time. “This didn’t _help_ things at all.”

Now he’ll never be able to look Dean in the eye again. Thank _Go_d that there’s almost a whole month before Castiel will see him next. That might just be enough time to come to terms with the fact that he jerked off and came harder than he ever has before – all while thinking about _Dean_.

This had better not happen again, or Castiel is going to have a _serious problem_ on his hands.

* * *

** _Tuesday – October 30th, 2018_ **

The comfortable silence is shattered when Castiel’s cell phone rings. Anna kicks at him from her end of the couch until he puts his book down to reach for it. Of the handful of people who call him regularly, one is here and the other he knows it working. That means it can only be one of two people.

He answers the phone without looking at the screen. “Hello, Dean.”

“_Hey, Cas_!” There’s a smile in Dean’s voice that sends a curl of heat through Castiel’s chest. “_We just wrapped up a hunt. We’re a couple states away so we should be in by tomorrow._”

“That’s great.” He balances the phone between his shoulder and ear and settles back into his spot on the couch. “I’ll prepare the spare room for Sam.”

There’s a long pause before Dean clears his throat. “_Does that mean I’m – uh – Y’know_?”

“Staying in my room?” Castiel ignores the way Anna’s head pops up from reading her own book. At his sharp look, she ducks down again, knowing better than to interfere after the stunt she pulled earlier in the month.

“_Yeah, that._” Dean sounds unsure, but there’s hope in his voice. “_You’re okay with that_?”

“Of course.” He fidgets with the next page of his book, running his finger along its edge. “Are you?”

After another pause, Dean sighs. “_Always, Cas_.” He coughs again and speaks a little louder this time, clearly trying to speak over any lingering awkwardness. Has that ever worked before? “_So, tomorrow is Halloween. You know that, right_?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Yes, I am aware.” He glances around the living room at the fake spider-webs, black candles, and various bric-a-brac that has been set out. “Anna and Aunt Amara like me to keep with the times by decorating my place for me.”

“We carved pumpkins!” Anna calls out, already getting her phone. “I’ll send you the pictures!”

“_I’m insulted that we didn’t get pictures the day it happened._” Dean sniffs. “_You hear that, Sammy? They carved pumpkins without us._”

Whatever Sam says in response has Dean humming lowly in answer. “_Yeah, I guess you’re right._” He sounds sulky for a moment before perking up again. “_What costume did you pick out_?”

Oh no. Castiel winces, already knowing exactly how this conversation is going to go. “I –” He glances at Anna. If he lies in front of her, she’s going to rat him out in an instant. Finally, he sighs. “Dean, I never dress up for Halloween.”

Silence follows that statement. Anna shakes her head, clicking her tongue quietly to herself. He knows her feelings on this. She tries to guilt him every year into wearing a costume, and every year he refuses. It’s not like Castiel goes to an office where everyone dresses up, or he has kids coming to his door for candy, or he’s going to a costume party. Literally no one except for him would see his costume and he’s never seen the point of it.

Even as a kid he didn’t do it – at least not since his mutation. His parents tried to carry on the tradition here where he could go to different doors in the house to get candy, but he was never into it and he didn’t want to wear a costume. Castiel has _wings_. Every day is a costume for him.

Predictably, Dean does not take the information well. “_What_?!”

Castiel sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Dean. Any costume I could wear would look ridiculous. I have _wings_.”

“_You could always go for the obvious and dress as an angel?_”

He doesn’t even dignify that with a response.

Dean groans. “_C’mon, Cas_! _It’s the perfect chance for you to go out in public. If you don’t move your wings, they would just come across as a really realistic accessory._”

This is almost the exact argument that he’s had with Anna a hundred times over. “I’m just going to hang up now.”

“_What if I wore a costume to match yours?_”

Castiel shakes his head slightly, trying not to smile. Anna would just question it. “Isn’t it a little too on the nose for you to dress as a demon?”

“_Ouch_.” Dean hisses with a wince. “_You saying I’m a bit of a devil, Cas_?”

He hums to himself for a moment. “I definitely wouldn’t say that you’re _angelic_.”

“_Rude_.”

“And now I’m going to change the topic.” Castiel ignores Anna’s questioning poke in the thigh with her toe and the raised eyebrow. “What time are you arriving tomorrow and do you want me to prepare anything for you?” Like dinner, or lunch, or have a bath prepared if they need it.

Dean makes a thoughtful noise. “_Uh, not sure. Probably just in time for the party_.”

Castiel sits up a little straighter, eyes narrowing. “Party? What party?”

“_The Halloween party_?”

He turns his suspicious squint on Anna. Knowing her, she probably has something to do with this. “_What_ Halloween party?”

Anna curls up a little tighter on the other end of the couch, but keeps her eyes firmly focused on her book. As if that somehow denotes her innocence. The longer he looks at her, the shiftier she gets. She even raises her book up, trying to hide behind it and save herself from the force of Castiel’s glare.

“_The party that Anna invited us to._” Dean sounds confused at first, and then he pauses. “_She didn’t tell you about it, did she_?”

“No, no she did _not_ tell me about a Halloween party.”

His frosty tone makes her flinch. She lowers the book with an explosive sigh. “Dean, you frikken _narc_.”

“_I heard that_!” Dean gasps into the phone. “_You tell her that I am not a narc_!”

Castiel ignores him; focused on his cousin now. “Anna. Explain.” If a party is going to be held at his place that he wasn’t informed about it sooner, he’s going to be _very_ unhappy. It will probably still happen, but he’s going to be grumpy about it until he gets over it.

He lowers the phone slightly and covers the bottom of it with his hand. It won’t do much to mute him, but it might be enough to muffle a whisper to the point that Dean can’t understand him. “Need I remind you that you are _still_ on thin ice?”

“Okay, first off.” Anna closes her book with a snap and sits up. “It wasn’t a joke. I was trying to be _helpful_, but I clearly didn’t go about it the right way. You chewed me and Sam out about our pact and it’s been dissolved. We’ve accepted this and I’ve apologized. Let’s move on. And, secondly, the party is a thing my apartment building is throwing.” She crosses her arms and glowers at him. “Those of us that wanted one pooled our money together to rent out _Mutandis_ for the evening.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar but it takes Castiel a moment to place it. “Isn’t that the new Mutant owned restaurant?”

“Sure is!” She starts getting excited; bouncing in place. “The whole staff are Mutants and it’s a very Mutant friendly space. Everyone’s been going there lately, so we rented it out for a private party and only those with an invitation are getting in.”

Castiel tries not to pout. “How come you didn’t tell _me_ about the party?” Or invite him, for that matter.

“I was hoping Dean could convince you when you see him in person tomorrow.” She shrugs and gestures at the phone. “He convinced you to go out for the Fourth of July, after all.”

Oh right, the phone. Castiel puts it to his ear again. “You’re going to _convince_ me, are you?”

“_Sure am_!” Dean sounds fairly confident in himself. “_Just gotta work my magic on you_.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He shakes his head; rolling his eyes as he settles back into the pillow propped between his wings. “Not happening.”

Dean and Anna both whine at the same time, but Dean’s the one who follows it up with words instead of childish tantrum-like kicks against the couch cushions. “_But it’s going to be, like, ninety percent Mutant attendees, Cas. And any normies will be cool, like your aunt_.”

“If it helps, Mom’s the one running it.” Anna crosses her legs and leans forward. “She’s in charge of the invitations, so she has the guest list and is making sure that it’s only Mutant friendly people attending.”

To their credit, it is pretty comforting to know that Aunt Amara is taking care of that, but that doesn’t mean Castiel wants to go. “I don’t know about this. My wings are massive right now…”

“_Wait_.” Dean gasps in surprise. “_You haven’t clipped them yet? I thought your molt was over_.”

“It is.” He shifts in place and curves a wing forward to run his fingers through the coverts.

There’s a contemplative silence that follows. Quiet enough for Castiel to hear Dean take a slow, shaky breath. “_But you haven’t clipped them yet_.”

“I have not.” And there’s a reason why, but he refuses to acknowledge that reason. Not to himself and definitely not verbally to Dean – _or _Anna, especially.

“_Why_?” Dean’s voice is a little high and breathy.

Castiel shrugs and looks away from Anna’s bright grin. “I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Maybe I’ll do them tomorrow so it’s nice and short for when you get here.”

“_No_!” The shout is so loud that Castiel actually jerks the phone away from his ear for a moment. “_Cas, no, please_!_ I will literally do **anything** to keep you from clipping them_!”

Now _that_ brings him to pause. He hums thoughtfully, already imaging the ways he could put a free pass like that to use. “_Anything_, you say?”

“_I don’t like how sinister that sounded_…”

Castiel taps his chin with his fingers, still staring off into the middle distance. “And could I file that _anything_ away for the future, to be used at my leisure?”

Dean takes a few moments to think about that. “_I don’t know if I like the sound of that_.”

“Well, then I guess I’m not going to the party.” Castiel shrugs and flips his book open again.

Anna promptly kicks him for that comment, jarring the book right out of his lap. It falls to the floor and he makes a face at her as he leans over to pick it up again.

“_Augh, **fine**_.” Dean groans, but there’s defeat in his voice. “_Yes, you can have an **anything **in your back pocket to torture me with for eternity – until you use it_.”

“Great!” Castiel smiles to himself, smug in knowing that even if he’s giving in and going to this party, he’ll still be one up on Dean in some way. “Pick me up a costume on your way into town.”

Both Dean and Anna cheer together, though they’re a hundred miles apart. It’s a bit amusing, but it strikes Castiel with a thought that he’s none too pleased by. He narrows his eyes at Anna. “I don’t like it when the two of you conspire against me.”

“We weren’t _conspiring_.” Anna scoffs and waves her hand at him. “It just worked out that we both wanted the same thing.” She pulls her phone out again. “I’m going to text Mom to let her know that you’re officially coming. We had you down as a _maybe_ until now.”

They were totally conspiring against him. They can deny it to their dying days, but Castiel knows the truth. He sighs and slumps back. “I hate you both.” He grimaces at the kissing noises Dean makes into the phone. “I’m hanging up on you now.”

“_See you tomorrow, bright eyes_.”

Castiel wrinkles his nose at that nickname. Dean oscillates through so many of them and this is probably one of his least favourites. “See you then. Drive safe.”

“Bye, Dean!” Anna calls out and Castiel kicks at her again as he ends the call.

“I can’t believe you’re using my best friend against me like that.”

“I can’t believe it _worked_.” She throws her hands in the air and wiggles about in place. “You’re actually coming to the party!” Then she stops suddenly and narrows her eyes at him. “You _are_ coming, right?”

“I guess I am.”

Even though he got played, and he can already feel the anxiety about the party starting to build, Castiel isn’t cruel enough to just cancel on them that quickly. Plus he’s got the _anything _card, and that’s an exciting bonus he didn’t expect to get today.

“And what about your whole – uh – _thing_ with Dean?” Anna gestures at him with her book as she sits back to get comfortable the way they were sitting before.

Did she _have_ to bring that up? Castiel groans and finds the place he left off in his book. “I don’t want to think _or_ talk about it.”

They’ve been ignoring the elephant in the room (or, technically, in the conversation) every time he’s texted, called, or video-chatted with Dean this past month. It still looms over Castiel’s head, and he has definitely thought about it _extensively_. In fact, there’s little else he’s thought about outside of work.

All that thinking and Castiel _still_ hasn’t come to a decision. There’s a yellow legal pad on his desk with a pros and cons list. He’s stared at it, re-written it, thrown it out, and re-written it again a half dozen times. As far as he can tell, the pros outweigh the cons every time. But he’s still scared of the unknown, of losing everything he has now.

He’s still a _coward_.

* * *

** _Wednesday – October 31st, 2018_ **

“Hold still.”

“I _am_ holding still.” But Castiel _is_ gripping the edge of the bed tightly as Anna holds his chin. She tilts his face one way and then the other, her other hand resting lightly on his cheek. “And if you poke me in the eye, I’m going to –”

Anna rolls her eyes and finishes drawing the line she was working on. “It’s just a little bit of eyeliner, you big _baby_.” She turns his head the other way so she can work on his other eye. “Just shush and let me finish this up.”

Castiel rolls his lips between his teeth to keep from frowning. Apparently frowning affects his eyes in some way and she already bitched at him about making facial expressions while she’s trying to put makeup on him. He’s only allowing the eyeliner because apparently that will _help_ with his costume. She had a black lipstick that he flat out refused.

After a moment, he glances at her bedroom door. “What costumes did Dean and Sam get?”

“Not telling.” Anna jerks his chin to get him to look forward again.

That’s not fair. She shuffled him off to the bedroom almost as soon as the Winchesters arrived. Anna claimed it was to give them a chance to use the living room to change into their costumes, but Castiel suspects otherwise. He barely even got to _see_ Dean, and now his stomach does a little flip every time he hears Dean’s voice on the other side of the door.

Occasionally, he can hear Sam’s voice too – mostly complaining on his part. From what little Castiel has overheard, there’s something unfair about Sam’s costume. Dean has been surprisingly – _suspiciously_ – quiet, with only a few comments here or there; a low rumble that Castiel can tell is him but not make out the words. 

“Okay, done!” Anna steps back and looks her handiwork over. “You sure you don’t want the black lipstick? You would look _so good_.”

“Don’t you _dare_.” He covers his mouth with both hands.

She pouts. “This is your first Halloween costume in twenty years. You should go _all out_ – like me!”

Anna strikes a pose, showing off her skin-tight green bodysuit that she’s artfully added leaves to – big bunches of leaves coming together in a bathing-suit shape. She even has strings of leaves braided into her hair. Her face has been painted green to match the body suit and she’s wearing a collar of flowers to hide where the suit ends and her skin begins.

“While I can appreciate the effort you went to for your _Poison Ivy_ costume, nothing you say will convince me to wear lipstick.” Castiel crosses his arms and looks away from her. The eyeliner had been a compromise from the full face of make-up she wanted to do.

“Ugh, _fine_.” She huffs and steps between his legs again. “Just let me adjust your halo a bit and then we’re good to go.”

He wrinkles his nose as she nearly unseats the headband from where she’s managed to hide it with his hair. “I still can’t believe that you’re actually making me go as an angel.”

“Be happy we’re doing something cool instead of making you wear a dress.” Anna pauses in the process of tilting his halo to smile down at him. “Or, there was that one costume that was just a kinda _skirt_ thing. A skirt and nothing _but_ a skirt.”

Castiel grimaces at that and pushes her away. “I get it. I’ll shut up and be more appreciative of the costume you got me.” He glances down at the jacket he’s wearing and plucks at the lapel. “Though I _am_ slightly suspicious that you already had this jacket altered for tonight when I only just decided to go to this party _yesterday_.”

Anna steps back and doesn’t answer for a moment, admiring her handwork. Satisfied, she nods and grins down at him; a flash of pearly whites against green. “Oh, I went out and bought this the moment Mom confirmed that the party was happening. I knew we’d be able to convince you eventually, and figured this was the only acceptable costume choice.”

Ugh, he should have known. He sighs and gets to his feet, tugging the hem of the jacket straight. “And what is Auntie dressed as?”

“Cat Woman.” Anna steps in again to start fixing the jacket, for what little good it will do. “But not the Halle Berry one. She’s the Eartha Kitt Cat Woman.”

An acceptable choice. Classic Cat Woman. “I see you two have a theme for tonight.”

“Yeah, Sam’s the odd one out.” She clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth. “His fault for not planning ahead. He could’ve been Batman, or the Riddler, or something _awesome_, but nope. He left it to the last minute and the costume shop didn’t really have a whole lot.”

If Sam’s the odd one out… “Does that mean Dean and I have a common theme between our costumes?”

Anna’s eyes are practically twinkling as she glances up from rolling the sleeves of his jacket most of the way up his forearms. “Nice try. I’m not spilling the beans.”

_Damn_.

Well, it was worth a try.

Castiel huffs and looks down at himself. “Remind me again why I’m not allowed to wear a shirt under the jacket?”

The black jacket is quite open in the front, a deep vee coming together in the middle of his sternum. It only has two buttons before parting again, and it makes him feel weirdly naked. As for the back of the jacket, the hole for his wings is a lot tighter than normal and Anna sewed straps in that go over his shoulders and back down under his arms. She said it was to make it look like his wings were strapped on. The length of his feathers hides the rest of the alterations.

“Wearing anything underneath it ruins the aesthetic.”

“And the pants?” Castiel shakes his hips a bit to jingle the chains that Anna clipped to his belt loops. They frame his hips, looping from front to back.

“_Aesthetic_.” Anna huffs and steps back again. “And if you’re asking how long I’ve had them, just know that I’ve been preparing your outfit for a _month_. Accept that we played you like a fiddle and move on.” She nods at his outfit. “Alright, looks good. Just needs the final touches.”

With that, she goes to the door and opens it. “Dean! Do you have the accessories?”

“Sure do!”

The sound of his voice comes up the hall from the living room and Castiel’s heart is suddenly pounding. It’s almost enough to distract him from what she just said. “_Accessories_?”

“You’re going as a _goth angel_, Cas.” She grabs his hand and starts pulling him out of the room. “You need accessories to really make it _pop_.”

And suddenly everything about the outfit choices make sense. “Is that why my halo is made up of black glowsticks?” He tilts his head back, as if he can somehow see the halo by doing that. “Where did you even _get_ black glow sticks?”

“They’re _purple_.” She hushes him and drags him down the short hall into the living room.

There are decorative mirrors hanging along the wall, going from floor to ceiling and Castiel finally catches sight of himself in full costume. The boots he’s wearing are borrowed from Sam – a pair of black combat boots that he wears on hunts, occasionally. His black skinny jeans tuck into them, accentuating the length of his legs and the musculature. Even the jacket is well fit for him.

He thought he would look ridiculous, but he’s surprised by how good he looks.

When they get to the living room, the first thing Castiel notices is Sam’s costume. It’s hard not to, since it’s bright yellow and nearly as long as he is tall. “A _banana_?”

At his shocked reaction, both Anna and Dean break down laughing. Sam, on the other hand, crosses his arms with a frown. “Well, since _no one_ invited me into their _themes_, I had to make do with the last thing the store had in stock.”

Castiel has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. That’s not too hard once his attention turns to Dean, because it becomes very hard to breathe after that. He can feel his feathers fluffing up; tripling the size of his wings as he takes in the whole outfit. Dean – _God_, he looks _so good_.

Like him, Dean is wearing black combat boots. His pants, however, are red and slightly looser and tucked into the boots too. They have misplaced belts sewn into the legs at random heights, just hanging there. It’s weird, but it works. Particularly because the red leather jacket he’s wearing hugs his form _very nicely_. It flares out slightly at the hips and hangs to mid-thigh.

Beneath the jacket, Dean is wearing a red vest over a black collared shirt. It’s open at the neck, revealing a tantalizing strip of collarbone. Castiel is overcome with the urge to lick it and he stares a little longer than he should.

Strapped to Dean’s back are a pair of red and black webbed wings. They’re not very large, but they’re certainly noticeable. Just as noticeable as the curved red horns on his head. They’re attached to a headband too; curving out and then in as they go right up.

Yes, Dean _definitely_ looks good. _Mouth-wateringly good_. And he knows it too.

There’s a knowing grin on Dean’s lips as he crosses the room. He has leather cuffs and bracelets in hand and passes some of them to Anna so they can start putting them on Castiel’s wrists. It’s Dean’s fingers, though, that feel _so hot_ against his skin.

“You’re looking good, Cas.”

“Y-y-y-y-” Oh great. His brain broke.

Anna nudges him hard in the side and Castiel gives his head a shake to knock some sense into it. He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out a little strained when he speaks. “You too.”

Somehow, Dean’s smile both grows and softens at the same time. “You ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” That is to say, not at all. His anxiety doesn’t seem to be hitting him as hard as it did on the Fourth of July, but it’s still fairly high.

“Just remember to keep your wings still and you shouldn’t have a problem.” At that, Dean gives his wings a generous once over. And then he stops and squints; leaning closer to look at them. “Dude… Is there glitter in your feathers?”

Ugh, that’s right. Castiel grimaces and shoots Anna a glare. “_She_ thought that it might help convince people that they’re fake.”

“That’s cute.” Dean winks at him, forcing him to look away and try valiantly not to blush.

Seeing Dean in person again after a month is _a lot_ different than he thought it would be. Castiel expected heavy amounts of awkwardness. He expected Dean to ask him about whether or not he’s made a decision. But it’s been nothing like that. Any awkwardness is on his part because Dean looks and sounds so good and all Castiel wants to do is find the nearest bed, push him down, and cuddle with him for _hours_.

“Great!” Anna claps her hands once before forcing her way between Dean and Castiel. She hooks her arms in theirs and starts forcefully guiding them towards the door. “Everyone looks fantastic. Mom’s waiting, so _let’s go_.”

As soon as they step out that door, Castiel’s anxiety ratchets up a few notches. This is the first time that he’s been out in public with his wings in _Lawrence_. Everyone in _Sioux Falls_ already knows that he has wings, but here people know him as the weird _wingless _hermit from out of town. He might not actually know anyone in town, but it’s still nerve-wracking to know that everyone is going to see his wings for the first time.

So far, he’s actually done pretty well with his anxiety about the party. Anna promised him that Auntie set aside a private room for them. It’s the smallest of the two ‘party rooms’ that the restaurant has (the other being converted into the coat room), but they have a door and blinds that can be pulled down over the windows that separate it from the rest of the restaurant. If he gets overwhelmed, he has a place to hide out.

Knowing that meant that Castiel was only kept up _half_ of last night by his nerves. His breathing exercises got him through the worst of it.

The restaurant is actually fairly close to the apartment block, since it’s also what is commonly known as the _Mutant district_, but they still all get into the Impala to go there. It’s more for Castiel’s sake than anything, because he’s not sure he would be able to walk all the way there with his wings out on full display. Even the drive is difficult for him.

Because of the size of Sam’s costume, he has to sit in the backseat. Castiel gets to sit in the front, which is a rare treat, and he’s too nervous to appreciate it. For the duration of the short drive, he drums his fingers on his thighs and bounces a knee.

There are _way_ more people out than he would have thought – parents walking their children around from neighbourhood to neighbourhood or various groups in costume heading to parties. Almost everyone is in costume and Castiel can’t tell the Mutants from the Humans. That’s – That’s actually kind of helpful. Calming, even. If _he_ can’t tell, then how can anyone tell with him?

The longest part of their drive is trying to find parking near the restaurant.

As they turn down one street and up another, Dean reaches across the seats to take Castiel’s hand in his. He links their fingers together to give a comforting squeeze and – and it works. Relief washes through Castiel like a wave and he breathes out a long sigh; relaxing one muscle group at a time.

For the walk from the car to the restaurant, Castiel takes Dean hand in his again. He needs the comfort and, to be honest, he just wants to. Dean has brought out the touchy-feely in him and Castiel hasn’t had it for a _month_. It’s not the same whenever he hugs Anna or when they sit together on the couch. This is different. _Everything_ with Dean is different.

It takes a lot of conscious thought to keep his wings still. At least it’s something to keep his thoughts off of all the other people around them – and especially when they reach the restaurant door. Aunt Amara is standing there with a clipboard, accepting invitations and checking off from her guest list and turning away anyone trying to just walk in off the street.

She waves their little group to the head of the line, stopping them only long enough to kiss Castiel on the cheek. “You guys look great. I’ll join you once my relief shows up.”

He barely manages to give her a ‘_hello_’ before he’s being whisked off inside. There’s a buffet table stretching the length of one wall, filled with a variety of foods. The opposite wall is where the bar is set up, and it’s fairly crowded around there. The rest of the restaurant space is filled with tables and a decently sized dance floor.

Anna weaves them through the crowd and Castiel holds his breath for the whole walk. With her in front of him, Dean next to him, and Sam walking close behind, he feels like his wings aren’t _too_ much on display. There are _so many people_ and he every step further inside is making his heart pound all the harder and he feels too hot and his chest feels too tight and it’s getting hard to breathe and –

They reach the little room set aside for them and Anna opens the door for them. Castiel all but stumbles through, gasping for breath as he falls into the first chair he fines. He doubles over, taking deep, shaky breaths and counting each one in his head. There were plenty of other people that he saw with wings, but they were all clearly fake; too small, made of non-feathered material, or outrageous colours. He knows that no one glanced at them twice, except for those that called out greetings to Anna.

He should have worn his coat over his wings. He could have gone at the Hunchback of Notre Dame, or clipped his wings and found a hat to be a private eye. _Anything_ would have been better than having his wings out like this.

“I’ll go put in an order for drinks.” Anna stays by the door, looking out into the room and waving occasionally when she spots one of her neighbours. “Is beer good for everyone?”

“Get Cas a water too, and a Xanax wouldn’t hurt.” Dean leaves Castiel side only to go around the room with Sam, pulling all the blinds down over the windows.

She snorts, but he can hear the sympathy in her voice. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Once Anna leaves the room, Sam takes up her place at the door and Dean comes to stand next to Castiel. His too-warm fingers settle on the back of his neck and start rubbing small circles at the base of his skull. It’s absurdly calming and Castiel leans into his side a little, taking what comfort he can get.

“You’re doing great, buddy.”

“Yeah, I doubt anyone even noticed your wings.” Sam adds, glancing back at him.

“Well, not true.” Dean is grinning when Castiel looks up at him sharply. “Oh yeah, people were _definitely_ staring at us. But that’s just because we’re the hottest people here.” He tilts his head towards the door and Sam. “Even with banana-bro here.”

Sam flips them both off and leans against the door frame.

Castiel manages a shaky smile up at Dean. “You really think so?” He definitely thinks _Dean_ is one of the hottest people here. But him too?

“Absolutely.” Dean’s eyes crinkle with his smile and his hand slides up to toy with a curl of hair at Castiel’s temple.

It’s painfully obvious that they haven’t had a chance to talk about _them_. They haven’t had the chance yet today – not that Castiel knows where to start. He wants but he’s afraid and – and he leans his head into Dean’s hand with a sigh. Dean makes a quiet noise and it’s one that Castiel doesn’t recognize; something between happy and wanting.

It’s the kind of noise that has Sam clearing his throat and drawing their attention to him. “It looks like Anna has our drinks. I’m going to go give her a hand carrying them.” Without another word, he slips out of the room and mostly closes the door behind him.

Now they’re alone and Castiel can feel his pulse starting to climb again. Alone means they’re going to talk, doesn’t it? Dean left him with a decision to make and a month should be enough time to decide. What if he gets so fed up with Castiel being a coward that he decides it’s not worth the effort? What if his indecision _ruins everything_?

Castiel is still staring at where Sam had been and he’s not aware that Dean is looking at him until there’s a gentle touch under his chin. He moves willingly as Dean turns his head up to face him – and then promptly loses the ability to breathe.

The way Dean is looking at him – soft and _heat_ and – “I know I said I’m not gonna push you, but I…” His gaze dips to Castiel’s lips briefly and Dean has to take a calming breath of his own. “Could I –?”

Don’t think.

Don’t _think_.

Just _do_.

Castiel sucks a deep breath through his nose and nods, just barely, but it’s enough.

Dean’s smile grows wide and he leans down. He thumbs along Castiel’s jaw and his lips are gentle – soft, _reverent_ – when they kiss. He breathes out slow, eyes falling closed as he leans up into it. Castiel reaches up to clutch Dean’s sleeve, holding him there because this – this is _so nice_. He missed this. _God_, he missed this. How could he miss something that he’s barely ever had?

His wings rustle against the fabric of the jacket as they shift; itching with the urge to spread forward and wrap around Dean. Castiel huffs; he’s losing focus and anyone could walk in and see his wings in full motion if he doesn’t get his wits about him again.

And that proves very difficult even after Dean is standing straight again. His thumb moves to Castiel’s bottom lip now, brushing it lightly in a back and forth sweep. It’s like lightning to Castiel’s nerves and his wings start spreading before he catches himself again; forcing them to fold flat.

“Hey.” Dean smiles, as if greeting him for the first time today.

One little press of lips and Castiel’s brain is already fried. Nice to know that he might not be the only one. He exhales slowly. “Hi.”

“Kinda missed you this month.”

Castiel nods again, hand sliding down Dean’s arm to catch his hand. “Me too.”

They talked almost every day, even if only to exchange a few messages. But without Dean next to him, filling the empty space in his bed, or the chair next to him at the table, or stretched out on the couch with his head in his lap – It just wasn’t the same.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Castiel has his other hand fisted in the front of Dean’s jacket, eyes focused on his lips because they should _definitely_ do that again. He tugs him down again and Dean comes willingly, noses brushing and – The door swings open as Anna and Sam walk in. All parties freeze in place and Castiel and Dean look in unison at their family. Slowly, Dean stands up again and Castiel’s hands fall to his lap.

“Uh –” To his credit, Sam looks both surprised and guilty for having chosen to walk in at that particular moment. “Are – are we interrupting?”

Anna, on the other hand, is grinning deliriously wide and almost bouncing in place. She has to be careful though, because in one hand she holds a bottle of water, and the other is a tray filled with – Oh dear God, are those _shot glasses_?

“Are you guys ready to _party_?” She brings the tray to the table and puts it down in front of him. “I brought _tequila shots_! Let’s get you drunk enough to _dance_.”

Oh no.

Castiel leans away from the shot glasses – and, coincidentally, more into Dean’s side. “I don’t dance.”

Because he’s leaning into Dean, he can feel the moment he goes still. There’s a wicked grin in place when Castiel looks up at him. “Challenge _accepted_.”

“No.” Castiel shakes his head as he accepts the beer Sam hands him. “I’m not dancing.”

Dean hums as he gets his beer and takes the seat next to him. “We’ll see.”

With the windows covered and the door mostly closed, Castiel does feel better about the party. Anna and the Winchesters do a good job of distracting him from everyone else. The music is thumping throughout the restaurant and there are voices and laughter filtering through the door, but he’s had a chance to calm down now and it’s not so bad. Maybe in a little bit, when Aunt Amara joins them, they can lift the blinds and somewhat be a part of the party too.

On the bright side, they don’t have to argue about who will be designated driver. Castiel doesn’t drink much usually, but he also doesn’t know how to drive. _Dean_, on the other hand, literally can’t get drunk. Though that doesn’t do much to stop him from knocking back a tequila shot with Sam and Anna.

All three of them turn to him, waiting and expectant. Castiel hesitates at first before sighing and picking up the remaining shot. “Fine. But this is my _only one_.”

Because the last thing he needs is to lose himself in alcohol tonight.

God knows what he would do around Dean with his inhibitions lowered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspirations for their costumes  
•[Cas’s outfit](https://www.struts.co.uk/party-fancy-dress-shop/images/ST994-mens-gothic-angel-wings.jpg)  
•[Dean’s outfit](https://images.halloweencostumes.com/products/41612/1-2/mens-dangerous-devil-costume-update1-main.jpg)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Thursday – November 1st, 2018_ **

Castiel wakes up with a groan and turns his face into the warm heat under his cheek. His head hurts and he hates it. Why in the world did he drink so much last night? Where did all his self-control go? Out the window, apparently.

Oh God. The window.

He squints as he looks up, hoping that he won’t be blinded. Did he remember to close curtains before he went to bed? Most of everything is a hazy blur that he _might_ remember fully once he doesn’t have a throbbing headache pounding in his temples. God, he hopes he closed the curtains. The last thing he needs is _sunlight_, or any light for that matter. It would feel like needles in his eyes and –

And the room is blissfully dark. Not only are the curtains closed, but the blinds have been drawn down underneath them. There’s just the barest frame of light around the edges – not enough to hurt his eyes, and barely enough to see by.

Castiel sits up slowly, immediately missing the heat he’d been cuddled up against. The nights have been getting cooler and he’s been loath to actually turn on the heat. But now – Now he looks down and of course the heat is a person, and of course that person is Dean. He’s like a walking furnace and he only gets warmer with sleep. It’s _fantastic_.

But that’s not what has Castiel confused. He rubs a hand over his face and crosses his legs as he sits up. When did they get home, and when did they go to bed? Trying to recall his memories of last night is like looking through frosted glass. It’s blurry and fuzzy and he’s not one hundred percent sure of what it is he’s thinking of.

God, and what _time_ is it now? If there’s sunlight on the other side of the window, then it must be some time in the morning. It’s normal for him to feel disoriented after a night of drinking, and this headache really isn’t helping with trying to sort through what images he has of the night before.

On the bright side, at least the headache isn’t as terrible as it could be. Even though he ended up drinking a lot more than he intended to, because someone (first Anna, then Dean, then Amara, though Sam might not have been the only one not to) each bought a round of shots. Castiel could have said no, and normally he would have, but he didn’t, so that’s on _him_. He probably doesn’t feel as sick as he usually would because Dean kept giving him water in between every beer and shot.

What it did mean, however, was that Castiel got to use a public restaurant washroom for the first time in as long as he can remember. The only bathrooms he’s used in forever are the ones at home, at Aunt Amara and Anna’s apartment, and the Winchesters’ apartment. He didn’t even use the ones in Bobby’s house. But last night he used one in a _restaurant_. It was exciting, and made all the weirder because Dean and Sam stood guard outside the door for him the whole time.

The more he thinks about it, the more Castiel remembers.

It took a while last night, but he was eventually comfortable enough for them to raise the blinds in their little party room. There wasn’t much to hide, honestly. All they did was sit around the table, laughing and talking while they indulged in the buffet table and bar. It was rather nice and Castiel did enjoy himself, especially once he figured out that if he sat with his back to the wall, he felt a lot better. Well, that and the fact that the more he drank, the more he kept not caring about how people would look at them occasionally.

Castiel definitely lost himself last night. Not only in alcohol, but the music had been good too. So good that – Oh no.

He looks down at Dean, still sprawled on his back with an arm tucked behind his head and the other draped across Castiel’s bed where it fell when he sat up. “I danced, didn’t I?”

“Dunno if I would call what you were doing _dancing_.” Dean turns his face towards him in the dark, voice still slurred with sleep. He probably woke up when Castiel did.

Ugh. Castiel slaps him on the nearest body part, which turns out to be a surprisingly firm stomach hidden underneath the blanket. The slap only makes Dean giggle and he brings his hand up to push up into Castiel’s feathers between his wings. He scratches there for a moment before curling his arm around Castiel’s waist and pulling him down against his chest again.

Dean muffles a yawn under his other hand. “I’d call it more like _swaying_. Pre’sure Anna has a video of it, so you can see for yourself later.”

Of _course_ she would have a video.

Castiel groans and turns his face into Dean’s chest again. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Fi-i-i-i-i-ine.” Dean sighs and drops his arm again. “Make it quick and come back to spoon me to sleep again, m’kay?”

It’s morning but Dean wants to go back to sleep? It can’t be _that_ early. It’s November now and the sun rises shortly not long after seven o’clock. Castiel knuckles at his eyes and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “What time is it?”

“Too early.” Dean yawns again and turns on his side, putting his back to Castiel.

“But it’s bright out.” To prove his point, Castiel reaches over to flick the curtain and blinds away from the window for a moment. They both groan at the brief light that spills into the room, even if it’s only a bit of a flash.

With a grumble, Dean rolls onto his stomach and stretches out so he can slap blindly at the side table. Castiel realizes what he’s looking for and twists around to look at his own side table and the ancient alarm clock on it. The dimly lit flip numbers tell him the time long before Dean manages to haul himself closer to the edge of the bed since they appear to be firmly situated in the middle of the massive mattress.

Dean hisses at the light of his phone screen, though dimmed, as he turns it on. “God, Cas, it’s only – like – eight-thirty.”

That’s later than Castiel expected. “Don’t you usually wake up earlier?”

“Not when I went to sleep…” Dean turns off his phone and rolls back. “I dunno, something like four hours ago. We stayed until the end of the party. The place didn’t close until two o’clock, and then we stuck around to help Amara clean up a bit.”

He gives another jaw cracking yawn and stretches out. “Then we took Amara and Anna home, and Sam wanted to stop at the 7-Eleven to get Slurpees. By the time we got home and to bed, it was almost four o’clock. So –” Dean stretches out until he can put his foot in the middle of Castiel’s back and all but shove him off the bed. “So _shh_.”

Everything Dean says is sparking something in his memories. Castiel vaguely remembers Dean coming back to the car in a parking lot and the sweet taste of slushy sugar. No wonder his mouth tastes disgusting right now. He doubts that he had enough wits about him to brush his teeth before he fell asleep last night – or, rather, this _morning_.

His head swims as he stands up and his wings spread to try and balance him. Castiel groans and presses the heels of his both hands into his eyes. God, this _sucks_. He should thank Dean later, though. This could be a lot worse if it wasn’t for all that water he made him drink.

It’s a slow stumble to the bathroom; one hand held out in front of him while he tries to keep from bumping into anything – most notably, the wall. Thankfully, Castiel isn’t so out of it that he doesn’t remember to slide the door closed behind him. He hasn’t even talked with Dean about this thing between them yet. It would be ridiculous to pee in front of him before they even talk.

After using the bathroom completely in the dark, because there’s no conceivable way he could possibly survive turning on the lights, Castiel returns to bed. Dean is on his side again, facing away as he snores softly into the pillow he has hugged to his chest. It’s cute and, with one look, Castiel desperately wants to be a part of that comfort.

He crawls back into bed with a sigh and settles behind him until his side is pressed into Dean’s back. It’s close, but not quite cuddling. Castiel stretches out like a cat on his belly; wings fanning up to the ceiling. He tucks his arms under his pillow and nestles his face into it. They won’t be spooning, but this is still pretty nice – and he won’t wake Dean up again by cuddling up to him like this.

As his wings come down, they spread out over the bed – one hanging off the side, and the other draping over Dean. That does seem to disturb him a little, but not by much. Dean groans quietly and curls up more, pressing back into his side. Castiel smiles and watches the back of Dean’s head. There’s a warm fondness filling his chest, and he closes his eyes to savour it.

This is nice. Castiel might not know what he’s going to do about _them_, but this? This is _nice_. It would be a lot easier if it was always just like this.

*

As it turns out, Anna absolutely did take a video last night. In fact, she took several and then combined clips from each of them into one summary movie of the party. It’s not very long but , surprisingly, it _is_ rather entertaining. Good thing she did that, because Castiel would have been very annoyed if it was just a video of him dancing. Or _swaying_, as Dean put it.

Castiel finds the video on his phone when he officially gets up hours later – woken not long ago by Dean with a cup of coffee in his hand and the tantalizing smell of a late brunch in the air. He has since been left to get up on his own while Dean makes sure Sam is alive and functioning.

“Sweet nirvana.” Castiel hums happily as he sips at the coffee. It’s doing a wonderful job of waking him up as he watches through the video; sitting up against his headboard with a pillow between his wings to take the weight off the joints.

The video starts with Anna half focusing the camera on herself while she does a shot. She wrinkles her nose after and hisses, because tequila tastes awful and Castiel honestly can’t fathom why they drank so many of them last night.

After Anna does her shot, the camera turns to showing everyone taking one – even Castiel. Oh – Does his whole face pucker like that every time he drinks? No wonder Dean laughed every time. Thank God it cuts to a new clip and he doesn’t have to see what happens next.

The new clip is focused on Sam from across the bar. He stands out quite starkly from the rest of his costumes with his height and bright yellow banana suit. It’s made all the funnier because he’s wiggling and bopping along to the music while waiting for whatever order he placed. The sound in the clip has the music playing in the background, and Anna giggling loudly; whispering to herself about what a dork Sam is.

The transition between clips is very sudden; cutting to Sam and Aunt Amara, as they hold hands and raise them up, jump up and down to the music as they all but shout the lyrics. They’re completely unintelligible, especially because Anna is outright _cackling_ into the microphone. Castiel is both surprised and amused, because he definitely doesn’t remember any of _that_.

When it cuts to the next clip, Castiel snorts his way into a full on laugh. Anna and Dean are sitting opposite one another at the table with a tray filled with tiny spring rolls on it. Aunt Amara called them _lumpia_. He’s never heard of them before, but they were _delicious_. They disappeared rather quickly from the buffet table every time they were brought out and now he knows why; competitive eating between two of the most important people in the world to him.

Before the clip ends, the camera turns on Sam and the face he’s making. “I’m taking this for evidence of how _gross_ you two are.” The last thing he does before it cuts to the next clip is stick his tongue out.

Castiel nearly drops his phone in surprise when he’s suddenly met with a screen full of him and Dean dancing together. His head is on Dean’s shoulders; fingers hooked through the belt loops at his hips. His wings are tucked to his back only because Dean has an arm around them, the other resting lightly around his waist. His head is resting against Castiel’s, and there’s a dopey little smile on his face.

Dean looks _happy_.

They’re swaying to the music; a slow song that’s muffled by the fact that they’re dancing together in their private room. Anna is blissfully silent throughout the final clip and it fades to black a short time later.

His dancing isn’t as bad as Dean led him to believe. In fact, it’s kind of nice. A soft memory that Castiel actually wishes he could remember in its entirety. He remembers the song and the comfortable weight of another person standing close. Maybe later, once he’s more awake, he’ll be able to remember the moment better. He certainly hopes so.

Once the video is safely downloaded to his phone, Castiel sends a text message off to Anna.

** _It was a nice party._ **

** _Thank you.  
_ ** _Read 11:34am_

_Glad you had some fun! [heart emoji] _

_See? Being in public isn’t so bad._

_Want me to send you the whole video I have of you  
and Dean dancing?_

_[wink emoji]_

** _…_ **

** _Yes please._ ** _  
Read 11:37am_

When he finally gets up from the bed, he has the full video on his phone and it’s downloading. Unless Dean brings it up, Castiel isn’t going to say anything about it. He’s certain that Dean probably already has a copy of his own. There’s no way he didn’t notice Anna taking the video while it was happening.

Castiel doesn’t _quite_ agree that being in public isn’t so bad. It wasn’t as bad as he was expecting, but he still didn’t interact with anyone outside of their little group. Maybe that will be the next step? For now – For now, yes. It wasn’t as bad as he was expecting and he did have himself a good time.

If that video is anything to go by – a _very_ good time.

*

** _Friday – November 2nd, 2018_ **

It’s a cool, overcast afternoon. Sun peeks through the clouds here or there, but it doesn’t warm up much past fifty degrees. Castiel doesn’t mind, since his coat keeps him fairly warm. The only real downside is the pouts Dean keeps throwing his way.

“You _knew_ I was going to wear my coat to the cemetery today, Dean.” Castiel sighs, hefting a bouquet in the crook of one arm and a lawn chair under the other. “Obviously that meant my wings were going to need to be clipped.”

“But it’s such a _shame_.” Dean whines again and slings a bagged chair over his shoulder. “Grow them out again. Please?” He even flutters his eyelashes, as if that has any effect on him.

Castiel rolls his eyes and starts towards his parents’ grave. “I’ll consider it.” He glances back over his shoulder. “I’ll join you at your mom’s grave when I’m done.”

They wave him off, though not without Dean _still_ pouting. He really needs to get over it. Castiel clipped his wings _two hours ago_. That’s plenty of time to mourn them, isn’t it? They’re just feathers. He will never understand why Dean likes his wings so much.

It’s been a year to the day since Castiel first met the Winchesters. They take their chairs and cooler to their mother’s grave, much like they did before. This time, however, Castiel actually came with them and he’s not annoyed when Dean starts playing music. There’s no candles this time, since they’re here shortly past noon. It’s still eerily reminiscent of a year ago and Castiel watches them for a bit before he turns his attention to his parents.

His last visit wasn’t too long ago. He’s been keeping up with his monthly visits as best he can, though his new penchant for travelling has thrown a bit of a wrench in that tradition. Before the Winchesters, Castiel would come to the cemetery for a visit within the first week of the month. Now it could be at any point – it all depends on when he’s actually home.

Castiel doesn’t think his parents mind that his habits have changed. In fact, he thinks they would be happy about it. They may have wanted to hide him from the world to keep him safe, but they still encouraged trying new things (though that mostly pertained to vegetables and ethnic food). They were the ones who supported him the most when he wanted to get a job, and he would like to think that they would accept the Winchesters just the same as Aunt Amara and Anna have.

As he goes about replacing the wilted flowers from his last visit, he wonders if his parents would mind if he visited less. They’re not really _here_, and he knows that he doesn’t _have_ to visit monthly, but he likes to. Dean and Sam don’t always have hours-long visits when they visit their mother. Sometimes they just drop in to say ‘_hi_’ and leave new flowers.

“I’ve made a lot of progress lately.” He settles on his chair once the flowers are arranged to his liking. “I went to a _party_ on Halloween. Can you believe it?”

He smiles down at the gravestone. Would they actually be proud of him for that, or would they be upset that he potentially put himself in danger? Castiel had his fake license the Winchesters made for him, but there wasn’t enough time for Dean to apply the fake tattoo. They were so adamant that he go out in public as little as possible because no one would accept his wings or him, but – But people _have_ accepted him. The Winchesters did. Bobby and Pam did. All their students never gave him a second glance. And his wings? Dean _loves_ his wings.

Castiel glances towards the Winchesters to find Dean gesticulating through whatever story he’s telling their mother. He can’t help but smile as Sam laughs loud enough for him to hear it from several graves away. It’s hard to believe that he was _annoyed_ by that a year ago.

“I don’t think I’m going to be going to Sioux Falls again this year.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “But I look forward to another trip next year. Maybe I’ll get to celebrate Dean’s birthday with his family.”

The grave is silent, as it always is, but that doesn’t stop him from talking. “I’d like to see how Bobby and Pam celebrate it with him. I wonder if it would be any different from how we did it here.”

There’s a smudge of dirt on a corner of the gravestone and Castiel uses the sleeve of his coat to rub it away. “I know you probably hate the idea of me _travelling_, but I like it. I think it’s a little terrifying, but it’s a lot of fun. Maybe one day I’ll even go someplace other than Sioux Falls. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Castiel actually has a list of all the places he would like to see one day. International travel is a little beyond him with having to get a passport and making it through airport security without having his wings discovered. And if he tried to go with his wings out, he’d be caught the moment they run his mutant ID. They might be able to make a good fake ID, but he’s still not in the system and – Well, Rome is nice to look at in pictures.

But he would love to see Niagara Falls one day. Or the Grand Canyon. Or the Statue of Liberty. He would like to dip his toes in either ocean, and see all those giant balls of twine and what not that every state seems to have. Disney World would be nice, but it’s more or less out of the question, what with his wings getting in the way of being able to be strapped into most rides.

He’s just wrapping up a story about last night when movement to his right catches his attention. Castiel looks up to find Dean weaving his way through the graves until he comes to a stop next to him; a cheeky grin on his face. “Hey, buddy.” Dean jerks a thumb over his shoulder back towards Sam. “We have beer and sandwiches. Wanna come join the party?”

A sense of déjà vu washes over him as he stares up at Dean, but this time he’s smiling. That’s exactly what Dean said to him the first time they met. The only difference this time is that Castiel isn’t scared. He doesn’t find Dean’s scars intimidating and, instead of unease, he feels nothing but fondness. His parents have had to listen to him talk extensively about his relationship with Dean – asking for some kind of guidance.

Castiel knows the story of how his parents got together way back when, but things were very different for them. They weren’t _Mutants_. They weren’t raised in isolation from a young age. They weren’t raised to fear everyone because they might turn on him – report him – and God knows what will happen to him if he gets taken to _The Facility_. It’s not something he ever wants to learn, but Castiel doesn’t want to just exist anymore. He wants to _live_.

And the Winchesters have afforded him that opportunity.

Which is why, this time, Castiel reaches up to take the offered hand with a smile. “I’d love to.”

Dean’s grin grows and he helps him to his feet. Castiel takes a moment to gather his chair, and then Dean is taking his hand again and leading him over to his mother’s grave. Once again, they have a little picnic set up. Instead of finding it weird, like he did a year ago, Castiel thinks it’s cute and he’s happy to be a part of it now. He sets his chair up between them, settling down and accepting the food and drink they give him.

This is nice and it makes him all the more grateful that he didn’t run away a year ago.

*

** _Monday – November 12th, 2018_ **

Thirteen days.

The Winchesters have been here for _thirteen days_.

That’s eleven days of cuddling on the couch during their evening movie tradition. Twelve days of cooking dinner together with music playing and Dean singing purposefully off key. Twelve nights of sharing a bed and occasionally spooning Dean to sleep because he’s a cuddle monster and Castiel had no idea what he was getting himself into when he made the decision to let Dean sleep with him.

Thirteen days and only one barely had conversation about the decision that Dean left him with. God, could that even be classified as a conversation? All that happened was Dean asking Castiel to kiss him, and they _did_ kiss. They even danced together. But that doesn’t count because they didn’t _talk_, not even once, about their relationship.

Thirteen days and they’re still in limbo.

Castiel has caught Dean looking at him every so often. It’s only when he’s busy with something and Dean thinks he might be too distracted to notice. But he _does_. He’s always aware of everything Dean is doing when he’s around him.

Worry has been a solid weight in his head; making his thoughts wander when he should be listening to the recording he’s trying to transcribe, or leaving him to mindlessly re-read the same section he’s supposed to be editing over and over and over without ever making a change. At this rate, Castiel is going to go gray worrying about whether or not Dean is getting impatient with waiting for a decision.

He never should have left this on him to decide.

The longer Castiel lets himself be afraid, the more likely it is that Dean will get tired of waiting. And what happens then? They spend a lot of time apart. What if Dean meets someone else on his travels and he just – What if he likes them more? The same thing could happen even if they’re in a relationship and it’s downright terrifying. Castiel doesn’t think Dean is that kind of person, but – but _what if_?

And that makes today all the more difficult, because the Winchesters are leaving. Again.

“Sorry for such a short visit, Cas.” Dean slams the trunk shut and turns to him. “But Dad picked up a hunt in Montana and we gotta try and intercept him.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Castiel steps out of the way for Dean to get around the side of the car. “I understand how important it is to you to find your Dad.”

He forces himself not to fidget with the cuffs of his sleeves, instead shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. The last thing Castiel wants to do right now is come off as uncertain, or needy, or anything like that. He needs to be supportive of his friends, because that’s what they are. At the end of the day, they’re _friends_. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?

Sam is already sitting in the car, waiting to go. Castiel already had his goodbyes with him, and now Dean is the only one lingering; moving slower than he normally would. He’s waiting for something, and Castiel knows exactly what it is.

“I’m –” His voice cracks and he hates the way Dean perks up, turning to him with _hope_ in his eyes.

Castiel clears his throat, opens his mouth, and the wrong damn thing comes out; “Good luck on your hunt.” No, that’s not – that’s not what he wanted to say _at all_. He clears his throat again. “I’ll – I’ll call you later, I guess?”

_Goddammit_.

For a brief moment, Dean looks vaguely disappointed, but then it’s gone with the quirk of his lips. But Castiel can still see the hint of it in his eyes and he aches to bring back the spark and the smile. Nobody – especially not _Dean_ should look like that. He hates that he’s letting him down in any way.

They hug their goodbyes, like usual, and Castiel doesn’t want to let go. He presses his face into Dean’s shoulder a little harder than normal before making himself step away; watching as Dean opens the car door. Castiel chews his bottom lip.

This can’t just be _it_.

“I thought about it.”

Oh God. That was loud. Too loud.

Dean pauses, the door half open. After a moment, he leans down. “Just a sec, Sam.” He shuts the door and turns to Castiel with raised eyebrows. “Alright. Hit me.”

Castiel feels like his heart is going to hammer its way right out of his chest. He takes a deep breath to try and calm it, but he still wants to crawl in a hole and hide from the world. His wings curve over his shoulders as he gives in to the urge to hug himself. “I’m – Dean, I’m _terrified_.”

Concern fills Dean’s face and he takes a step closer, his hand coming up to hang uncertainly in the air between them. “You’re – Of what? Of _me_?”

“No, _God_ no.” He shakes his head and digs his fingers into the meat of his arms. “No, you – You’re the only _not_ scary part of this. But I – I’m –” It’s getting hard to breathe and Castiel forces himself to take another deep breath. “I’ve never done _any_ of this. It’s new and terrifying and – and what if I mess it up? I have no idea what I’m done and what if I do something to hurt you and – and then we’re not even _friends_ anymore?”

And he can’t – Castiel can’t go back to being alone again. He just _can’t_.

Dean rolls his lips between his teeth and steps back to lean his hip against the car again. “Okay, okay.” He looks away briefly, brow furrowed in thought before it smooths out with his smile. “Well, Cas, there’s only one way to find out.”

Find out what would happen if he messed up? Castiel _really_ doesn’t want to do that. He takes a deep breath again. “Will you hate me if – if I – if I don’t want to?”

“No, of course I won’t hate you.” His smile falls slightly and he tilts his head to the side. “But that’s not actually what you want, is it?”

Castiel rubs his hands over his face. “Of _course_ it’s not.”

But he’s just – he’s not _ready_. Not yet. It’s not fair to either of them that Dean _is_ ready and he’s not. They both ended up in this situation because Castiel cracked. He gave in to temptation in a moment of weakness when they were both upset. No, not even that. He _panicked_ because he just wanted to make things_ okay_ between them again.

And all he did was make it harder.

He made it _worse_.

“Okay, Cas, okay.” Dean steps closer, dipping his head to catch Castiel’s eye. “Then what _do_ you want?”

“I want – I want –” To turn back time so he never kissed Dean in that motel room and then they wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. But that would mean they never would have kissed and – and he likes kissing Dean. A lot.

_Goddammit_.

“I _really _want to kiss you again.” Because Castiel can’t bring himself to say everything else he should say.

All the things about how he wants to spend all the time in the world with Dean. How he wants to make him laugh and smile. How he wants to comfort him when he sniffles his way through the sappy movies he pretends he doesn’t like. Or tease him when he sulks every time he gets his ass kicked at a board game. Or cuddle up to the heat of him at night and wake up to that sleepy, slurred voice in the morning.

Castiel wants all of that, but asking for it – taking it, _having it_ – means having more than what they have now? He’s not ready for that. And he’s not sure when he will be, or if he’ll ever be, but –

“You want to kiss?” Dean’s smile softens as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue in a quick, _highly _distracting motion. “We can do that.”

When they step into each other, Castiel’s hands come up to cup Dean’s face so he can press kiss after chaste kiss to his lips. Dean’s arms circle his waist and one hand pushes up into his feathers. It goes no further, but Castiel’s wings still spread out sharply at the contact. A huff of breath against his lips sounds like a little like a laugh and Dean murmurs something about a ‘_wing boner_’. Castiel can’t be bothered to stop kissing him to ask what he means.

His wings fold forward to cross over Dean’s back, pulling him in as close as he can get as they exchange soft kisses. They’re the kind that make it hard for Castiel to breathe, but they’re _so good_. And it makes him want to cry because this still isn’t an actual answer, is it? Does it really count when all he admitted out loud was that he’s _scared_ and that he doesn’t want to hurt either of them? Does it really count when all he said is that he wanted to –

Oh God. He just said the same thing that Dean said at the motel. Did it sound like he only wants to be physical? Because it’s not that. It’s not that by a _long shot_.

Castiel pulls back, ready to explain. “Dean –”

“It’s fine, Cas.” Dean shushes him again; already drawing him back in. “If this is all you can do right now, that’s okay.”

The kisses are still soft, and still sweet, and they’re everything Castiel wanted, but it’s still not enough. But his heart nearly seizes just _thinking_ about wanting to ask for more.

When they finally pull apart, Dean’s teeth graze his bottom lip and it leaves him dizzy. Castiel takes a shuddering breath and stumbles back a step. That wasn’t even a _French kiss_, but it’s left him shaken and craving so much more. It’s only worse when Dean does that lip rubbing thing again; his thumb sweeping over his bottom lip. Castiel’s wings shiver violently and his next breath is punched out of him.

“We’ll go slow.” Dean tilts his head and he’s too damn understanding. Just once, Castiel wishes Dean would be selfish and _demand _something from him.

“But –”

Dean presses his thumb over Castiel’s lips to keep him from talking. “No buts. It’s like you said, Cas, this is new and scary. You don’t want either of us to get hurt and that’s sweet of you, so we’ll have to figure this out slowly.”

Is – is this for real? Is Dean _really_ going to continue waiting on him? Because – that’s just – He’s really too good. “Are you – Are you _sure_?”

“Cas.” He takes a deep breath; hand falling to lay heavy against the side of Castiel’s neck. “I like you. _A lot_. I’m willing to put the effort in to make this work. Are you?”

There is literally no other answer that Castiel could give. He nods slowly, barely finished with the gesture before Dean is kissing him again. It’s like an electric shock to his system – spiking straight down into his toes. His wings start to spread again, and Dean grins at them when he steps back.

“Wing _boner_.” He huffs under his breath again before shaking his head and smiling brightly. “Great, Cas. So, we’ll go slow.”

Castiel feels breathless and it takes him several tries to find his tongue again. “H-h-h-” Oh God. Dean broke him. He swallows thickly and takes a deep breath to try and get his head back in some kind of sorts. “How long will you be gone for this time?”

Dean frowns and looks away; first to the ground, and then to the sky. He mouths words to himself and counts on his fingers for a moment. Eventually, he looks back to Castiel again. “Honestly, probably not until some time in December?” He gives Castiel a wry smile. “How’s that for slow, huh?”

Oh, that long? Castiel wilts at the realization that it could be a near month before he sees Dean again. His wings droop and his disappointment must show on his face too, because Dean’s smile turns soft and why in the world does that frustrate Castiel more? Why can’t they just stay here with him? His house is paid off and he has a very comfortable savings account. He makes good money and he could _easily_ pay for anything they would need.

“It’s okay, Cas.” Dean reaches out to chuff his jaw with his knuckles. “It’s no different than usual, right?”

“Right.” And yet, he still can’t stop himself from pouting.

But Dean just keeps on smiling. Why isn’t _he_ bothered by this? It’s like Castiel is the only one sad about how they won’t see each other for almost a _month_. And that’s part of his issue with a relationship between them. Dean travels _so much_ and there could always be at least a month between visits, if not longer, and Castiel –

No. _No_. He needs to be okay with this.

Castiel _was_ okay with it when they were friends, but now that they’re – God, what even are they? Obviously, they’re not _just_ friends anymore, but they’re not quite boyfriends and – Castiel is a man in his thirties. Is it even okay to call someone your _boyfriend_ in your thirties? He feels like an idiot about all of this and Dean is both amazing and infuriating all at once.

“I’ll call you tonight.” Dean steps in to steal one more kiss; a quick press of their lips that has Castiel leaning after it. “Don’t know if we’re stopping for the night somewhere, or if we’ll drive straight through, but I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.” Castiel nods, feeling just a little dumbfounded. This didn’t go at all how he thought it was going to go. “Okay.”

Dean lingers for a moment, looking like there’s something else he wants to say. Instead, he gives his head a little shake and lifts his hand in a wave. “See ya, Cas.”

He gets in the car and, as he is about to close the door, a question strikes Castiel. “What did you mean by _wing boner_?”

Rather than answer, Dean laughs and closes the door. Sam is just _grinning _in his seat, eyes bright and excited as he looks between the two of them. Castiel hates knowing that it’s only a matter of time before that smile fades when Dean tells him that they’re not together – not quite.

Sam waves as Dean backs the car out of his spot in front of the garage. Even with the lingering guilt, Castiel can’t stop himself from raising his hand to wave back. He waits until they’re out of sight and he can no longer hear the rumble of the Impala’s engine before collapsing into a squat. Castiel groans and covers his face. This should be easier, shouldn’t it?

Why does he feel sick _and_ happy all at the same time? He feels _so dumb_ for making this so much more complicated than it should be. How come Anna didn’t have any of these problems with her first boyfriend? She didn’t overthink it, or doubt herself. It seemed so _easy_ for her when she told him all about it. Granted, she was thirteen years old at the time and only dated the neighbour’s boy for a few months. But _still_.

Castiel groans again and pushes his hands up into his hair, gripping tightly before he stands again. He promised himself that he wouldn’t talk to Anna about his relationship with Dean anymore because of her previous nosiness, but – but now he desperately needs to talk to her. She’s going to lose it over what happened today and that they’re going to go _slow_ (slower?), and Castiel is positive she’s going to lecture him for being such a _coward_.

But this is still a step in the right direction. A small step, but a step nonetheless. He might not be ready for _everything_, but this is okay. _Castiel_ is okay. But what he is not okay with is that he didn’t put all his feelings into words like he should have. They got stuck in his throat and wouldn’t come out.

He might not be able to _say_ them, but he might be able to _type_ them.

It’s time to write an email.

*

** _Monday – November 26th, 2018_ **

“God, your stupid laptop is huge.” Anna grumbles as she tries to fit her laptop next to Castiel’s on the pile of books at the end of the table. “When are you going to upgrade?”

“When it officially dies on me.” Castiel shifts the whole stack his laptop is balanced on. “Make sure the angle is right. Dean, can you see all three seats?”

“_Tilt the screen a little more – a little more – There! Perfect_.” His voice filters through both Castiel’s laptop and the one Anna set up with Sam. He frowns at the echo. “_Sam, mute yourself. Your voice should pick up on mine just fine._”

Anna ducks her head to look at her screen. “What about you, Sam?”

“_Looks good, thanks_.” Sam’s voice comes through the Skype call with Dean, confirming that he did mute himself as told.

Aunt Amara has her elbows on the table, glass of wine in hand. “Is this as weird for everyone else as it is for me?”

“_This is so weird_.” Dean laughs and leans closer to his camera, his face filling the screen of Castiel’s laptop. “_A virtual Thanksgiving. We’re in the future, folks_.”

“_Why can’t Dean and I be on the same screen?_” Sam’s eyes flick up, likely looking at Dean over the top of his laptop. “_It’s kinda weird to have both of us using separate devices. This motel table isn’t **that** big._”

Dean shrugs and takes a swig of his beer. “_Suck it up, Sammy. This is fine._”

“How come you’re not in Sioux Falls?” Aunt Amara leans over to look a little more closely at both laptops. “I thought you usually spend holidays there?”

Sam looks down at whatever is in front of him and then brings a baby carrot covered in dip to his mouth. “_Normally Pam insists on it, but she’s visiting family this time around. They complained that she didn’t visit enough, so she’s being forced back home for this and Christmas too._”

That doesn’t sound too bad to Castiel. Though he doesn’t know the situation between Pam and her family, so he can’t really judge on that. He looks up from pouring himself his own glass of wine. “What about Bobby?”

“_He’s not big on holidays. In fact –_” Dean grins; his smile wide and bright. “_– he’s given us a carte blanche to spend Christmas with you._”

“_If it’s okay with you, that is_.” Sam adds, shooting Dean a look over his camera.

Anna looks up from where she’s been subtly trying to sneak some stuffing onto her fork before they’re actually supposed to start eating. She turns excitedly to Castiel at the same time that Aunt Amara looks at him; her eyebrow cocked curiously.

Castiel’s wings react first – feathers spreading to puff them up in delight. “I would love to have you both for the holidays.”

And, really, he’ll take any excuse to have Dean here for longer. Then they might be able to actually have a decent conversation about where they stand with each other. He had written an email with everything he had trouble saying in person, and Dean’s response had been a simple; _I understand._ It was almost disappointing, if Castiel didn’t already have his answer from when they parted at the car. He understands and he’s going to be patient. Dean thinks he’s worth waiting for and – and Castiel _really_ hopes he’ll be ready for more some day.

“_Great!_” Dean sits back, clearly pleased with the results. “_We want to do another hunt or two before we make our way back to Lawrence. Gotta pad our bank accounts a bit before we take a little time off._”

“When will you be coming here?” Castiel leans forward slightly, breath caught in his throat. He’s been waiting to find out when their next visit will be for _weeks_.

Dean looks away briefly and takes a sip of his beer while he thinks. “_Probably about mid-December, I think? That sound about right, Sammy?_”

“_I think so._” Sam shrugs.

Augh, that’s _so_ long away. Castiel’s wings droop again, his clipped primaries touching the floor. “Oh, okay. That’s fine.”

He has no choice but to be okay. It’s not like he could force them to come sooner than their schedule allows. Besides, he talks to Dean almost daily. The only thing truly bothering him at this point is how big his bed feels without him. Which is silly, because he’s spent almost his whole life sleeping alone and he never had this problem whenever Anna slept over.

A hand on his knee gets his attention and Castiel glances at Anna to find her giving him a sympathetic look. He’s talked to her about everything concerning Dean and, surprisingly, she didn’t try to take it over. She was understanding and comforting and it was nice to have her on his side instead of trying to talk over him and take things over in her own way.

Aunt Amara gives his other knee a comforting squeeze and Castiel turns his appreciative smile on her. Rather than acknowledge anything verbally and maybe tip the Winchesters off to his disappointment, Castiel pulls his chair closer to the edge of the table. “So, are we ready to eat?”

With Castiel at the head of the table, the Winchesters on the laptops at the other end, and Anna and Aunt Amara on either side of him, it doesn’t leave a whole lot of table space for their meals. The bigger things, like the slower cooker full of meatballs, the pot of mashed potatoes, and the plate of turkey are still all in the kitchen. On the table is a bowl of dinner rolls with a corresponding dish of butter, a bowl of stuffing, some cranberry sauce, a tray of cut vegetables, and the wine, of course.

It’s not as big a dinner as what they had last year, but they’re also down two in-person attendees and their bottomless stomachs. Dean and Sam are also having a fairly pared down version of a Thanksgiving dinner. They had to order in because their motel room is lacking a proper cooktop and stove to make everything normal. Dean already lamented not being able to cook all the things he wanted – and that they would only have one serving each.

But that’s what they get for not having come home for Thanksgiving.

“Let’s get started.” Aunt Amara puts down her wineglass completely and takes one of his hands in hers, the other she rests next to the laptop with Sam. “Castiel, would you like to say grace for us?”

Anna rolls her eyes and ends it with a flat look at him. He understands without any words. They don’t go to Church, so why should they say grace? Castiel’s parents were fairly religious when he was growing up, but he’s since fallen out of touch with that part of his life. It was Anna and Aunt Amara that helped him get through the death of his parents, not God. Castiel blamed _Him_ for taking his parents and – and he has been able to go back to believing, really.

Either way, Anna takes his hand and puts her other next to the laptop with Dean. Even though he knows for a fact that Dean is definitely not religious in any sense, and Sam has some faith but isn’t practicing any particular religion, Castiel is still surprised when they both bow their heads on screen. They did it last year too when Aunt Amara insisted on grace before dinner then too.

Castiel breathes out through his nose a little heavier than needed and lowers his head. “We give our thanks for the blessings given to us in health and happiness. We give our thanks for the blessings given to us with friends and family. We give our thanks for the meal before us and pray for continued prosperity. Amen.”

Aunt Amara murmurs an ‘_Amen_’ after him, but Anna doesn’t say anything. As far as he can tell, neither Dean nor Sam do either. That’s fine, and Aunt Amara doesn’t seem bothered by it. She’s not that religious herself, but there are still some habits even she is holding on to from her upbringing. Saying grace before a holiday meal is just one of them. She makes them say it for Easter dinner, Thanksgiving, and Christmas dinner.

Everyone tucks into their meals following grace, and a conversation starts up slowly. It touches on the usual topics, in particular; the hunts the Winchesters are picking up, and how their dad continues to elude them. He was already done the hunt he had picked up when they left and he was long gone by the time they got to the area. And, of course, no one could really tell them which direction their dad had gone off in.

Dean falls out of the conversation while Sam talks about the reasons he thinks their dad is able to dodge them every time. Even his eating slows down and he picks at his food off screen, eyes downcast. Castiel watches him with an ache in his chest. Whenever the topic of their dad comes up, especially about another time when they just missed him, Dean always gets weirdly closed off.

That’s why Castiel chooses to change the conversation and directs it towards his Aunt and her work. She launches into an almost scolding tirade about a child who came in the other week with a mouthful of cavities because he would lie about brushing his teeth whenever his parents asked if he did it.

“But they were mad at _us _as if it was our fault that they never even bothered to check if he was telling the truth!” She gestures angrily with her (thankfully empty) fork. “I made sure Anna brushed her teeth at least twice a day because I would stand there and brush my teeth with her!”

“_Sam sometimes brushes after lunch_.” Dean finally adds to the conversation. “_He’s super paranoid about having anything in his teeth._”

Sam actually throws a bunched-up napkin at Dean. “_Only because someone used to make a huge deal out of it whenever I had something stuck in my teeth. Someone had to announce it to the whole world!_”

“Speaking of…” Anna leans forward, squinting like she’s trying to see the pixels on the screen better. “I think you’ve got a little something…”

Immediately, Sam slaps a hand over his mouth and stands up. He leaves the screen to, supposedly, go look in a mirror. Anna sits back with a grin, pleased with what must have been a joke because Castiel definitely didn’t see anything. Dean snorts and immediately schools his expression into something neutral as Sam drops into view again on the other screen.

“You’re not funny.”

“On the contrary.” Anna takes a sip of her wine and beams at the camera. “I’m _hilarious_. And, on that note, I’m thinking of taking my talents elsewhere. As much as I love how flexible my job can be, I don’t like being on call almost every day.”

Aunt Amara raises her brows in surprise. “Oh, really? Have you got a lead for somewhere else?”

“Actually, I was thinking I might apply at _Mutandis_.” Anna shrugs and sits back in her chair. “I really liked being there for the party and the staff has been great every time I go there.”

“How often do you go?” Castiel talks with her so much and yet she’s never mentioned having gone there more than the time they went for the Halloween party.

She shrugs again, looking at the ceiling in thought. “At least once a week? It’s a nice hangout place for the mutants in the apartment complex. We don’t have many places where we can go without people giving us the stink-eye. It’s like they think we’ll just start using our abilities to wreck wherever we are whenever we feel like it.” She wrinkles her nose at that.

Castiel pauses in his eating. Anna has never really talked about any racism she receives for being a mutant – aside from some less than kind things her employer has said to her from time to time. She’s also the only delivery person for the company that’s _on call_ because her powers allow her to get across town much faster than any of their other employees.

He’s always feared the thought of people looking at him like he’s different – like they _fear him_. It might have occurred to him that Anna must deal with that too from time to time, especially because her tattoo is visible on the side of her neck, but he never really _thought_ about it before.

“I think you should do it.” Castiel nudges her foot with his underneath the table. “Maybe start as part time since you’ve never worked in a restaurant before. If you like it, you could quit and start working at _Mutandis _full time.”

Anna flashes him a bright smile. “It’s either that or become a hunter like you guys.” She looks pointedly at Dean and Sam. “What do you think? Want another partner?”

Dean and Sam share a look before they both shake their heads. “Pretty sure your mom would kill us.”

“I absolutely would.” Aunt Amara gives them both a chilling stare. “You’re already putting one of my dumbasses in harm’s way when you take him with you. I won’t let you have another.”

Castiel feels a flush fill his cheeks. “_Auntie_.”

“You’re a dumbass, sweetie.” She reaches out to pat him on the shoulder. “Just accept it and move on like the rest of us.”

Dean must have himself muted, because he’s quite obviously laughing on screen but none of them can hear him. Sam seems to have a case of the giggles too and Castiel glares at them both. Even Anna is trying to smother laughter behind her hands. He did _one_ dumb thing and it seems that everyone close to him is hellbent on never letting him forget it.

With a huff, Castiel turns his focus to his meal. Is he pouting? Yes. Does he care? No. He’ll continue pouting until either someone apologizes or the conversation turns to something else and he gets involved in that. For now, he pouts.

Aunt Amara doesn’t apologize, but she does pour more wine into his glass. “Drink up, kiddo. You need to loosen that stick up your butt.”

This time, Dean doesn’t mute himself. His laughter is loud enough that the speakers crackle with it. Castiel tries to maintain his frown, but he likes the sound of Dean’s laugh too much for that. His wings twitch with a shiver and he forces them to hold still before anyone might notice.

Sam, bless him, makes the effort to turn the conversation again. He starts talking about where their next hunt is going to take them – to _New York_ – and how he wants to go to the top of the Empire State Building, and the Statue of Liberty.

“God, you’re such a nerd.” Dean snorts through a laugh.

As much as he doesn’t want to, Castiel can’t help smiling.

It’s nice that they were able to include the Winchesters in tonight. The only way it could have been better is if Dean and Sam were actually _here_.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Wednesday – December 19th, 2018_ **

When it comes to wrapping presents, Castiel has a _system_. His gifts he lines up along one side of the table. The box holding the variety of wrapping paper and gift bags he’s amassed over the years is sitting out on a chair next to him so he can quickly swap between them if or when he needs to. In front of him is a clear space to lay out, measure, and cut the paper as needed, and a weighted tape dispenser to his left to make it easy to reach.

Wrapping presents is _serious business_ and Castiel does not take it lightly – and especially because of the significance of the presents this year. That aside, he’s also wrapping Anna’s gifts to the Winchesters and her mother, while she has taken it upon herself to decorate the house. Normally she would just put her gifts in bags because she’s all thumbs when it comes to actually _wrapping_ something. Castiel is making the effort to have things look _nice_ for the first ever Christmas with the Winchesters.

Now, he could have just paid to have it done professionally at the mall, but this year is special. This year has been all about improving himself – as he’s done in leaps and bounds. In fact, he bought all his gifts this year. That might not sound impressive, because previously he would always buy online or have Anna shop for him, but this year he actually did it himself. In person. _At the mall_.

It was terrifying and exhilarating and Castiel is _immensely_ proud of himself for it.

Yes, it took five days and a half dozen trips to actually get everything that he wanted, but the end result is that he did it! Castiel Novak (an anxiety ridden _mess_ of a mutant) clipped his wings as short as he could feasibly get them, bound them with a binder, covered them with a sweater and his heavy overcoat, and went to the mall.

Any time he had a panic attack or his anxiety climbed too high for him to function, Aunt Amara or Anna would take him back out to the car where he could spiral down. Bless his family for being so tolerant of him. It took out of their time and day to keep bringing him back, but they did it without complaint. Anna would bring him drinks in the car to help calm him down, and Aunt Amara would help him count.

They’re just the best and he probably wouldn’t have been able to get it done without them. But he did! Castiel actually shopped at a mall and went into different stores. He found the perfect gifts for everyone, including the Winchesters, of course. He even got to peruse an actual _bookstore_ – which is something he hasn’t been able to do since before he presented. It was _amazing._ Terrifying, but amazing.

And he _did it_.

Though he would be a bit happier if now, a week later, he wasn’t still a bit jittery with nerves about the whole thing. It’s like a part of him is still expecting someone to report having seen a mutant at the mall. The chances of that are unlikely, but it’s something that has kept him up at night since and he knows it will be a while before he moves past it.

He _has_ to move past it because this is a very important Christmas. It’s the first time he’s going to have visitors outside of Anna and Aunt Amara for the holiday, and he is going _all out_. The tree, for example, is normally a small two-foot thing on a side table where they can put the presents beneath it. This year, it’s a six-foot tree that he bought while at the mall – because he always had real trees growing up and he is _not_ going through that effort.

Castiel looks up from where he’s just putting the finishing touches on a gift. The tree is in front of the window, taking place of the chair that is usually there. Unfortunately, he had to move the chair to a less optimal location. It’s at a strong angle to the TV and he is strongly considering moving it again before Christmas Eve to make enough space for everyone to sit and see the movie properly.

But that will have to happen _after_ the tree is decorated. Right now, the coffee table and couch are covered in dusty boxes of ornaments that Castiel dug out of the basement. Most of them haven’t been used since his parents died. He still isn’t fully over their death, but he’s healed a lot in the past year. Having the Winchesters around has really helped take his mind off of a lot of that hurt.

The front door opens and closes, followed with the stomp of feet to knock snow off shoes. “Can I come in yet?” Anna calls up the stairs.

“Are you finished with everywhere else?” Castiel sets the gift he finished aside and starts measuring the paper for the next one.

A loud sigh accompanies the sound of feet on the stairs. “Yes.”

He hums and starts cutting paper. “Did you put the holiday mat and decorative seat cover in the bathroom?” It was one of the things he found at the mall and he just _had_ to buy it.

“Ugh, yes.” Anna was not as excited about his find as he was. “It’s weird as hell, but yes.”

There’s a mental list of all the holiday décor he bought and he goes through it, piece by piece. “What about the themed soap pumps for all the bathrooms?”

“Ye-e-e-es.” Anna drags out the answer as she heads into the kitchen. “And the holiday towels, the new pillowcases, each door is outlined in garland, _and_ I just finished changing all the outdoor lights to red and green bulbs.” The fridge opens and closes. “I also stuck the light up candy canes along the front of the house, so now the only thing left to do is your damn living room.”

Castiel considers making her wait longer for the hell of it, but he’s not _that_ cruel. “Go ahead. I wrapped your gifts first so there’s nothing for you to peek on.” He is well aware of the danger of having her in the house when her gifts are around. Anna loves spoiling surprises for herself – and that extends to everything in her life. She’s too curious for her own good.

Anna drains whatever she took out of the fridge and rustles around out of sight. When she finally comes into the living room, she’s toting around the bags of décor that Castiel bought and the tote they found in the basement with everything his parents had. Anna spares a glance at both him and his presents, and pouts when she sees that all he has left is the stuff to wrap for Dean and Sam – and the pajamas that they bought together for Aunt Amara.

“Did I tell you that mom totally bought pajamas for the boys too?”

She puts everything down on the far end of the table and starts rummaging through the box. The first things she comes up with are little angels and snowmen, and their homes are every shelf around. It’s all the little things that Castiel hasn’t used to decorate the house with in _years_.

Something about Aunt Amara including the Winchesters in their annual tradition makes the tips of Castiel’s wings tingle. He can’t keep himself from smiling. “That’s really sweet of her. She didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, she did.” Anna crouches to arrange a little menagerie of sorts on the stand under the TV. “I tried talking her out of it because it was never discussed with the guys first, but she wouldn’t listen.” She flashes Castiel an amused grin. “She said she’s got four idiot kids now, and the tradition needs to include all of them.”

Castiel bites his bottom lip, trying not to show how happy that makes him. He couldn’t have asked for anything more than his family being so accepting of his friends. It’s really nice. He’s read post after post after post online of people upset because their families don’t accept their friends or vice versa. He really lucked out.

Once his gifts are all wrapped and under the tree, Castiel and his height help Anna to string up the last of the garland around the dining room. He clears off the table and lays a runner across it while she puts out various candles and décor. It’s turned out rather nice and the house definitely feels homier now that everything has been put out again.

Now that they’re finally finished, everything not needed to decorate the Christmas tree is brought back down to the basement. On the way back up the stairs, Castiel checks his watch. It’s shortly after noon and he used all of his lunch break up with not actually eating.

“I guess I’ll get back to work and hopefully get some progress made before they get here.” He ducks into the kitchen to grab a protein bar and a bottle of water.

The last he heard was that the Winchesters are on their way, but they weren’t able to give an exact estimated time of arrival for him. That’s odd for them, but then Castiel realized that they must plan to make a few stops along the way. They’re probably going to be doing their Christmas shopping before they get here, since they certainly haven’t had the time to do it while they’ve been jumping from one hunt to another.

Since Thanksgiving, the Winchesters have done _three_ hunts. They’ve been pushing themselves quite hard and Castiel is determined to make sure their time here is as relaxing as possible. The Winchesters certainly deserve it.

“Go on.” Anna flaps a hand at him as roots through the last of the décor in the box. “I’ve got the rest of this covered.”

“Thank you.” He pauses to drop a kiss on her cheek before heading to his office to get some work done.

* * *

The rumble of the Impala’s engine can be heard even through the walls of the house. Castiel made sure to work on his editing so that he doesn’t have headphones on and can hear when the Winchesters arrive. It’s been nearly a month since he’s seen them and his pulse picks up slightly at the first distant hint of the Impala approaching. He can’t save his work quick enough.

Anna is kicked back on the couch, watching TV with half a slice of leftover pizza hanging out of her mouth. She leans around the wall behind the couch as Castiel comes bustling out of his office to duck right into his bedroom. “You want me to help out?”

“No, I think we’ll be fine.” He steps in front of the mirror of his closet to check how he looks – nice sweater, hair fixed, sweatpants on but Dean has never cared about those.

It’s weird. He’s never cared about what he looks like before, but now…? They’ve been apart for almost a _month_, which is not really any different than normal, but Castiel _wants_ to look good. It’s a weird feeling, and he makes a face at himself in the mirror before heading to the front door.

Castiel slips into his boots and heads out into the cold moments after the sound of the engine cuts out. The temperature today is in the mid-forties and he instantly regrets not having grabbed his coat first. There’s minimal snow on the ground and it looks like Anna even shoveled and salted the walk while she was out here earlier.

“Hey, handsome!” Dean gets out of the car with a grin as Castiel approaches. He pulls him into a warm hug that Castiel wants to sink into to avoid the cold breeze. “Did’ja miss us?” Unexpectedly and with a grin, Dean drops a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

The spot tingles and sends shivers through to the tips of his wings. Castiel ducks his head to press his face into the side of Dean’s neck. “Of course I did.” He hugs him tightly before stepping back to meet Sam as he comes around the side of the car. “Did you have a good drive in? Were the roads okay?”

“It wasn’t too bad.” Dean crosses his arms and leans against the side of the car. “Sam is able to keep us steady if we start to slide. He’s pretty awesome.”

Sam has the grace to blush a little at that praise. “It’s nothing, really. Dean’s a great driver.”

“He’s just being modest.” Dean laughs and gives Sam’s shoulder a push.

“Am _not_.”

Sam shrugs and escapes to the trunk of the car. He taps it once and it pops open, catching Castiel by surprise. Doesn’t it have to be opened by a key, or at least from inside the car? Castiel glances at Dean briefly, confused, until he realizes that Sam must have opened the trunk with his telekinesis. He rustles about in the trunk before surfacing with a number of gift bags in hand.

Castiel eyes them, his wings fluffing slightly because he will never not be excited by presents. “Oh, did you get some shopping done?”

“That’s for _us_ to know and _you_ to find out.” Sam holds the bag close to his body and takes a wide berth around Castiel to start towards the house. “And you will find out _next week_.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m _Dean_!” Castiel huffs and then promptly has a full body shiver. It’s far too cold to stay outside for much longer. “I don’t peek at presents.”

Dean snorts a laugh at his shoulder and gives him a shove towards the trunk. “C’mon. There’s just the duffle bags and cooler to get and then we can head inside.”

Castiel doesn’t hesitate to grab both duffle bags. He slings them one over each shoulder as Dean gets the totes and a couple shopping bags of snacks and food. They must have stopped off at the grocery store on their way here too.

By the time they make it inside, Sam has already deposited the new presents under the tree. He comes around the corner from the living room with a bright grin, practically dancing in place with childish glee at the top of the stairs. “Dean! There’s already gifts for us under the tree!”

“Why are you surprised?” Anna’s voice comes from the living room. “That’s literally the point of this whole holiday.”

“Anna, you know that’s not true.” Castiel sighs and kicks off his boots. “It’s about much more than that.” He starts up the stairs just as she comes around the corner to stand next to Sam.

Sam sticks his tongue out at her and she makes a face right back at him. They maintain their childish glares before Sam huffs and starts down the stairs. “I’ll take the bags, Cas.” He holds his hand out for them. “I’ll take them to the bedrooms.”

“Actually, I’d prefer it if you took them down to the laundry room.” Castiel drops both bags, his face scrunched as he gets a whiff of them. “Your bags are a bit ripe.”

Dean laughs and puts down the things he’s holding. “I’ll take them.” He picks up the duffle bags instead and starts down the stairs to the basement. “I’ll throw a load in.”

Now that he’s been relieved of the duffle bags, Castiel tacks up the cooler and food bags and brings them upstairs. Sam and Anna part to let him by so he can get to the kitchen and start the process of putting it all always.

“Hey…” Sam tags after him, glancing over his shoulder at Anna with a curious look. “You said Anna and Amara usually stay here from Christmas to the New Year. How is that going to work with us here now?”

“We bought a queen-size blow-up mattress.” Anna leans against the door frame, watching them as they start putting things away. “We’re going to sleep in the basement.”

Sam pauses in the process of putting away a truly massive bag of chocolate chips. “You can’t do that. Why don’t I take the couch while you’re here? Then at least one of you can have a proper bed.”

Anna shakes her head and snags a tube of Pringles chips that Castiel puts on the counter. “Nah, it’s cool.” She pops the top and opens it. “There’s going to be plenty of room for the both of us, and we won’t be able to hear Cas’s snoring from downstairs. It’ll be fun – like camping!”

“I don’t _snore_.” Castiel interjects.

At the same time, Sam frowns and shakes his head. “But it’s camping in the _basement_.”

“Better than camping _outside_.” She grins and pops a chip into her mouth. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sam looks like he wants to argue, but he sighs and returns to putting away the groceries. “How come your tree is empty, Cas? Where’s all your decorations?”

“I thought it would be nice to decorate it together tonight.” Castiel tucks the cooler away in a corner of the kitchen and heads back into the living room. He picks up one of the boxes on the table and flips back the lid. “It would be a nice thing to do as a family, don’t you think?”

“That’s so _sweet_.” Sam must be finished too, because he comes out of the kitchen only to wrap Castiel in a tight hug.

“Isn’t it _just_?” Anna, with chips still in hand, joins the hug by throwing her arms around the both of them – Castiel squished in between them both.

Of course it’s that moment when Dean walks in the room. “Hey! No fair.” He rushes up and wiggles his way into the middle, his arms worming their way around Cas. “Why are we having a group hug?”

“Cas wants to decorate the tree as a family tonight.”

“That’s so _cute_.” Dean grins and squeezes Castiel all the tighter.

He flushes darkly and squirms, trying to break free from the three of them with little to no luck. “You’re all _ridiculous_. Let me go!”

There’s a brief pause where he thinks they might listen to him, but then Anna squishes closer with a whisper. “Hug him _harder_.” And _of course_ both Dean and Sam would choose now to actually start listening to her.

The hug is tight and Castiel has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He drops his head onto Dean’s shoulder with a snort. It would be easy for him to just give in, but part of him wants to continue acting put out. That seems like it would be more fun.

“Ow!” He hisses, biting back another laugh. “My wing!” All three of them jump away immediately, faces concerned. Castiel grins and spreads his wings in triumph. “Just kidding.”

His joke is met with silence. Dean is the first to break it as he starts laughing. The sound of it makes Castiel’s toes curl and his wings fluff up again; pleased with himself. It’s always a treat to make the Winchesters laugh.

“Should we start decorating now? Aunt Amara won’t be able to make it tonight.” He picks up the remote so he can try to find one of the holiday fire log channels – preferably one that has some Christmas music playing.

“Sure, why not?” Dean shrugs out of his coat and holds his hand out to take Sam’s too.

Anna grins brightly and teleports from the room. Her voice calls out from the kitchen a moment later. “I’ll get the drinks!”

While Dean hangs up the coats in the hall closet, Sam starts unstacking the boxes from the table and spreading them out along the couch so all options are available at all times. He opens one of the boxes with a large number one drawn on the top and sides in black marker.

“Oh my God.” Sam gasps and takes one of the ornaments out. “Cas, is this you as a baby?”

There’s a clatter of hangers in the hall and a flurry of stomping feet as Dean comes skidding around the corner. “Where!? Show me!”

The ornament in Sam’s hand does indeed have Castiel as an infant in the picture slot. It’s stamped with the words _Baby’s First Christmas_ on the other side. Dean plucks it from his hand and very nearly squeals as he looks it over. “Holy _shit_. Look at those chubby little cheeks!”

Castiel sighs and drops the remote once he’s found the right channel. The Winchesters are now going through the box full of family pictures on ornaments or popsicle stick frames that he made as a child. He ignores them and their quiet cooing and whispering as he plugs in the Christmas tree. It’s a pre-lit one so he doesn’t have to deal with the nightmare that is string-lights.

Dean outright cackles when he finds an ornament where Castiel is missing both his front teeth. “These are _fantastic_.” He has a handful held tightly to his chest, presumably his favourites. “I want to keep them forever.”

“They go on the tree first.” Castiel picks up a shopping bag from beside the couch and rests it on the table. It’s full of brand-new packages of garland. “After this.”

“Oh, let me help.”

Sam returns the ornaments in his hands to the box and quickly steps up next to the tree. Once the garland packages are open, they start wrapping from the top of the tree with Castiel on one side and Sam on the other. They pass the loop around and around, pausing only to readjust how it rests on the boughs of the tree. It ends up taking two and a half garlands to fill the tree, and the last half of the third garland gets wrapped back upwards.

By the time they’re done, Anna has returned with a few bottles of beer that she passes around. She stays off to the side, watching them. Just as they’re finishing the garland, she gasps and claps her hands. “Oh! I call dibs on putting the star on the tree.”

“It’s an angel, actually.” Castiel points at a box that he has kept separate from everything else. “It was passed down through my mother’s side of the family and _I’m _going to put it on the tree.”

He doesn’t expect Dean’s face to fall into a pout. In fact, he looks downright morose as he sips at his beer. This can mean nothing good and Castiel narrows his eyes at him. “What is it?”

Dean shrugs and looks away. “Nothing.” He stoops to pick up another ornament from the number one box. “S’just –” He sighs and looks up at Castiel, pouting again. “_I _always put the star on the tree at Bobby’s place…”

Sam rolls his eyes and mutters quietly to himself under his breath.

Castiel ignores them all. “It’s _my_ mouse, _my_ tree, and _my angel_.”

“Wow.” Anna whistles a disappointed note and puts her hands on her hips. “That’s not a very Christmas-like spirit you have there.”

“I don’t care.”

“Why don’t we deal with that when we get to it.” Sam speaks a little louder, as if to speak over the previous conversation. He picks up the first ornament he had found of Castiel as an infant and holds it out to him. “Do you have a set place for everything, or does it just go on the tree wherever we find some free space?”

Castiel still frowns at both Anna and Dean before turning back to the tree. “Family ornaments I prefer on the front where they can be seen.” He accepts the ornament carefully and hangs it front and center. “The generic ornaments can go everywhere else.”

After a moment of consideration, Castiel moves the ornament closer to the top of the tree. He regards it with a hum before frowning. No, that doesn’t look right. He moves it again to just below eye level. It _still_ doesn’t look right, but Dean snorts loudly behind him when he reaches for it again.

“Oh Jesus.” Dean sighs, stepping up to his side with the box of family ornaments in his hands. “You’re one of those _anal-about-their-tree_ people, aren’t you?”

Anna snorts as she drops into the recliner. “Yes, yes he is. Even when it’s a tiny two-foot tall tree.”

Sam muffles a laugh under his hand and Castiel elects to take the high road. He ignores all three of them as he holds out his hand for the next ornament to go on the tree. It really doesn’t matter _what_ order the family ones go in, and just because he has an eye for aesthetics when it comes to tree decorating shouldn’t call for open mockery.

That said, he does have to bite his tongue when Dean starts putting the family ornaments on the tree. Personally, he would have put that particular ornament lower because it’s rather large, but he won’t say anything about it now that they’ve teased him. Anything else can be moved later on, once everything is on the tree and he can swap things around as needed. In private. Where they can’t poke fun at him.

The three of them get through the whole box without Anna getting up to help them even once. She does, however, feel the need to give her opinion. “I think the one with baby me should be right up there with baby Cas.”

“Who’s anal about this now, hm?” Castiel frowns at her over his shoulder.

She simply grins and salutes him with her beer. “What can I say? It runs in the family.” She laughs and pulls the handle that kicks out the foot rest.

Dean turns to her with his arms crossed. “Are you ever planning on helping?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ rather obnoxiously and raises her eyebrows. “I’m just going to sit here and admire the view.”

Sam stands up sharply from where he had been bent over to put the last ornament on a lower bough. His cheeks have gone pink and Anna throws her head back with a laugh. She crosses her ankles and tucks one arm behind her head as she stretches out on the chair to recline it further.

“Fine.” Castiel picks up the next box of ornaments he plans to use. “If you don’t help to decorate the tree, then you’re going to be relegated to cooking dinner.”

“Ex_cuse_ you!” Anna sits up enough to snap the foot rest back into place. “I decorated the _whole house_.” She gestures dramatically around at the rest of the room. “_And_ I did the outside too!”

Crap. She does have a point there.

Castiel purses his lips and turns back to the tree without another word. Anna hums smugly and the chair creaks as she leans back again.

That said, while the three of them decorate the tree, she does make it her job to keep them all stocked up on drinks – be it beer, a soda, or a glass of water. Anna also supplies them with snacks; bringing out bowls of popcorn and chips for everyone to enjoy. When they’re almost finished with the tree, she does get started on their dinner by putting two frozen pizzas in the oven.

Conversation while they decorate flows between the talking about the last hunt the Winchesters had. They laugh and joke, filling the house with a warmth that has nothing to do with the heat pumping through the vents. Castiel doesn’t even mind the teasing when he gets caught trying to subtly adjust some ornaments while he’s putting new ones on the tree.

The only item left to go on the tree is the angel, but they take a break to sit at the dining table and eat their pizza once it’s ready. Anna and Dean, apparently unable to ever _not_ argue about food, squabble about what constitutes an appropriate pizza topping. Castiel chews his simple pepperoni and bacon slice and regards the tree. It looks good, but it brings to mind a question he should have probably asked a while ago.

“What kind of Christmas traditions do you have?”

Dean abruptly turns his attention from Anna to him – right in the middle of arguing against pineapple on pizza. Before he can answer, Sam does it for him. “Not really.” He shrugs and ignores the glare he gets as Dean’s jaw snaps shut. “I mean, there’s some movies that Dean absolutely _needs_ to watch by Christmas, but there’s not really anything else.”

There’s a solid thump under the table and Sam hisses loudly, flinching back. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re forgetting literally _everything else_.” Dean gestures grandly with his pizza slice, very narrowly smacking Anna in the face with it.

“No, I’m not.” Sam rolls his eyes and leans down to rub his leg. “We don’t do anything else at Bobby’s except the movies and dinner.”

Dean sighs loudly. “Yeah, but this year is going to be _different_.”

“How so?” Castiel looks between the two of them.

“_Because_ –” He takes a big bite of his pizza and proceeds to talk with his mouth full. “This year we’re celebrating with someone who actually _likes_ the holidays!” Dean waves a hand at both Castiel and Anna. “I want to make a big dinner, have party poppers and _hats_, and actually have fun. The whole shebang!”

After a pause, Dean swallows his mouthful and turns to Castiel. “As long as that doesn’t go against how _you _guys celebrate, of course.”

Castiel can’t help but smile. He reaches under the table to pat Dean’s knee gently. “It’s okay. We can make room for your traditions too – even the new ones.” And he rather likes the idea of their little patchwork family making traditions of their own.

Anna seems to like the idea too, as she immediately launches into talking about the appetizers, pajama exchange, drinking, and movies that they watch on Christmas Eve. She looks Dean straight in the eye when she gets to the park about movies. “And we _always_ have to watch _Miracle on 34th Street_ on Christmas Eve.”

“Great!” Dean claps his hands and reaches for another slice of pizza. “That’s actually one of the movies on my _To Watch_ list for the holidays.”

“What are the others?” Castiel’s curiosity is certainly piqued. He knows there are _a lot_ of Christmas or holiday related movies. Is there some kind of criteria, or –?

Dean starts listing the movies off on his fingers. “_Die Hard_, obviously. Both _Home Alone_ movies. All three _Santa Claus_ movies – the ones with Tim Allen. Can’t forget _Muppets Christmas Carol_, or _The Grinch_.” Anna opens her mouth to ask a question, but he keeps talking over her. “Yes, the original one and the live action. I’m still on the fence about the one that came out in November with Benedict Cumberbatch, so we’ll see. But we definitely need to watch _The Nightmare Before Christmas_, and – last but certainly not least – _Elf_.”

Castiel was tracking Dean’s fingers while he was listing them and he blanches slightly. “Dean. That’s _twelve movies_.”

He bobs his head. “Yup.”

Sam sighs and rubs a napkin over his mouth. “And we watch them every year.” There’s a far off, almost pained look in his eye. “Every. Year.”

“Shut up, you love it.” Dean makes a face at him before washing down his latest bite of pizza with the remnants of his beer. “And it’s not like we watch them all in one sitting. Normally we start watching them a lot earlier than –” He pauses and looks up at the ceiling, mouthing numbers to himself for a moment. “– than six days before Christmas.”

Anna figures it out first and she snaps her fingers as she gets it. “The twelve days of Christmas!” At Castiel’s confused look, she decides to continue with her explanation. “You guys watch one every night leading up to Christmas because of the _twelve days of Christmas_.”

Dean grins. “Got it in one.”

Castiel groans and pinches the bridge of his nose – instantly regretting it as he smears pizza grease on his skin. “That means we need to watch _two_ movies a night to catch up to your schedule.”

“How is that any different than usual?” Dean nudges his foot under the table. “We normally watch a movie or two when we wind down before bed anyways.”

“It’s not different. It just seems daunting when you look at it in numbers.” He sighs and grabs a napkin to wipe his face off. “Oh well. I guess we should get to it, hm? Do you have any specific order you prefer to watch them in?”

Dean thinks about it for a moment before shaking his head. “Nope.” He polishes off the last of his pizza slice in two quick bites as he stands. “Anyone up for dessert?”

“Let me help.” Castiel gets to his feet too and collects both his plate and Sam’s. Anna passes hers to Dean. “I think you bought a box of Drumsticks we could have?”

“Sure did. Because I _plan ahead_.”

Anna sits up a little straighter and makes eye contact with Sam – both of them breaking into wide grins while Castiel and Dean gather the dishes from the table. That’s probably something that he should be worried about, but both Anna and Sam have been better at respecting his boundaries lately. He does, however, squint at both of them before he follows Dean into the kitchen – noting how Anna turns in her seat to watch them.

The moment Dean goes through the doorway, Anna claps her hands sharply. “Ah-_hah_!”

Castiel stops and turns back; already frowning. “What?” Sam’s smile is almost goofy in nature, but his eyes are focused on a point about Castiel’s head. He sighs, already knowing what it is before he even looks up. “You didn’t…”

“I _did_!” Anna bounces in her seat in excitement. “You’re both _under the mistletoe_!”

“I don’t even _own_ mistletoe.” He stares up at the innocuous little decoration and hates every tiny leaf.

“I know.” She puffs up, pleased. “I bought it myself.”

Dean sighs, though it sounds more like a snort as he takes the plate from Castiel’s hand. He stacks them all on the counter next to him. “Well, we might as well get it out of the way, Cas.”

He takes back everything he thought about _boundaries_.

“Fine.” Castiel huffs and points at Sam and then the mistletoe. “_You_ are going to _burn this_ as soon as we’re done.”

“Sure thing.” Sam nods and leans forward to prop his chin on his hands. “Kiss first.”

Why are they so focused on this? Kissing is about the only thing he and Dean have no problem doing. In fact, Castiel is a little disappointed that they didn’t have a proper kiss when the Winchesters arrived, but that’s fine. They’re _something_ but not really and it’s not like they_ have_ to kiss all the time. It would just be… nice.

Castiel sighs heavily through his nose, wings shuffling against his back, and grabs Dean by the front of his shirt. He pulls him in forward sharply enough that Dean actually stumbles into him with a surprised squeak; quickly muffled by their kiss.

_Oh_.

Kissing him again makes Castiel’s heart flutter. It feels good – _right_ – and he sucks in a breath through his nose before stepping closer. He tilts his head to get a better angle and his hand slips from Dean’s chest to his hips. Dean’s arms find their place around his shoulders and he hums into the kiss as he finds his footing.

Part of Castiel still feels a little awkward about kissing – if only because he’s worried that he’s not _good_ at it. Dean hasn’t complained even once, so he can’t be _that_ bad. On the bright side, Dean is _very_ good at this and he has no problem taking charge. He cups Castiel’s jaw and thumbs his chin until he gets the hint to open to the kiss. His wings flutter and fold forward to curve around Dean at the first delicious slide of his tongue against his own.

“Oh no.” Anna groans loudly behind him. “Oh _no_. It _backfired_!”

Sam mimics her groan. “Get a _room_, you guys!”

Dean waves a hand in their direction and hums softly into the kiss. He doesn’t seem to want to end it anytime soon, but Castiel knows better. When he pulls back, Dean pouts and tries to draw him back in. “Don’t let them ruin something awesome.”

“Dessert, Dean.” He clears his throat and carefully moves Dean’s arms from his shoulders. “We were getting dessert.”

That doesn’t seem to stop him. Dean leans in and drops his voice in pitch to a rough rumble that tingles straight through to Castiel’s toes. “What could be sweeter than this?”

The grin proves it to be meant as a joke, and Castiel snorts loudly. “That was _terrible_.”

“Yeah, but it got the job done.” He laughs and nods towards the twin gagging sounds from the dining room. “A little bit of payback for you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and gives Dean a shove. “Go on. Go put the dishes away. I’ll get the ice cream.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Dean salutes and snaps his heels together. He does an about face with military precision and proceeds to gather the dishes and take them to the dishwasher.

That stirs a little something in Castiel’s belly, but he forces himself to ignore it and continue to the fridge. He stops only to look at Sam again and point at the mistletoe. “_Destroy it_.”

“On it!” True to his word, Sam actually does get up to pull it down. “Anything to make sure that we never have to see _that_ again.”

Serves them right.

Castiel pauses at the fridge to watch as Sam holds the mistletoe in his fist. He squeezes it tightly and flames flicker out between his fingers before engulfing his entire hand. It goes out quickly, well before the smoke detector in the hall would catch on to it. Sam washes his hand of the ashes in the sink before returning to the dining room.

“Are there any others in the house?” He drops into his seat on the other side of the table from Anna.

“Nope. That was the only one.”

“Thank _God_.” Castiel fixes her with a disapproving glare as he settles into his seat at the head of the table again. He opens the box and starts dealing out the ice cream.

With a dreamy sigh, Dean slides into his chair between Anna and Castiel. “I dunno. From where I was standing, it was a pretty nice surprise.”

Anna huffs and snatches her ice cream before Castiel can give in to his temptation to keep it from her. Though, he supposes he could say that she’s been punished enough. The show he and Dean put on wasn’t what she was expecting. Hell, it wasn’t what _Castiel_ was expecting. Just thinking about it is making his cheeks feel hot.

Dean looks around the table as they all open the packaging on their Drumsticks. “So… Movie time?”

Castiel looks across the table at the mess of boxes they’ve left strewn across the living room. “I think we need to clean up first.”

“On it!” He springs up, leaving his ice cream unopened at his spot.

“What about –?”

“I’ll eat it when I’m done.”

And it might have melted too much by then. Castiel rolls his eyes and gets up to take it back to the freezer so it’s safe. He joins Anna and Sam at the table and the three of them enjoy their ice cream while watching Dean gather up all the empty boxes. The boxes get packed away inside much larger Rubbermaid bins, and Dean takes those downstairs one at a time.

When he comes back up after the last bin goes, he returns with two Febreze-scented duffle bags and the spare laundry basket stacked precariously with all their clean clothes. He plunks the basket down next to the couch before rifling through the pockets on one of the duffle bags. From it, he produces a USB drive and he takes it straight to the TV.

“The first movie up… is _Die Hard_!”

No one objects and Sam gets up to go take over the recliner before anyone else can. Castiel turns to Anna as they stand. “Will you be staying the night?”

“Nah.” She takes a bite out of her cone. “I’ll zip home after the movie.”

She elects to take up the free chair instead of staking out a place on the couch. With the tree sitting in its usual space, the chair is at an odd angle to the TV and Castiel doesn’t expect her to stay there for very long. He really should move it – but later. It will require moving all the furniture a little bit and he’s not in the mood to do that tonight.

Castiel and Dean take the couch, though Castiel curls up in a corner. Dean sits on the other side with his duffle bag propped open between them. Sam has his duffle on the coffee table and the basket of clothing is set up in easy reach of them both. It does, however, put Sam’s back mostly towards the TV while the movie starts. He doesn’t seem to mind – probably because of how many times he’s watched it over the years.

While the Winchesters fold their clothing and tuck them back away into their bags, Castiel finds himself watching them more than he does Bruce Willis. Should he clear a space for Dean in his closet? They’re here often enough that it would make sense for them to start leaving some clothes here. And Dean – Well, he doesn’t have any place for his clothes. Sam at least has a dresser and closet in his room that he can use. Dean has a spot in the corner of the bedroom where he lives out of his bag during their visit.

The more he thinks about it, the more Castiel realizes what a good idea it is. He resolves to clear the space after the movie, and after Anna goes home.

It’s probably not the step that Dean is likely hoping for, but Castiel thinks it’s a step in the right direction. He wants to share his home and his space with Dean. Hopefully that will count for something.

* * *

Castiel is the first to say his goodbyes to Anna, and he quickly retreats to let the Winchesters hug her. Hopefully no one notices that he slips away immediately to get started on his plan in the bedroom. If they were to ask, he would have told them that he needs to use the bathroom.

No one asks and he’s free to put his plan into action.

There are a few spare hangers on one side of his closet. Castiel pulls those out and puts them on the bed for Dean to use. He knows he doesn’t have that much clothing with him, since he tends to travel light, but it’s the thought that counts. And maybe next time he’ll bring more clothes if he knows that he has the space to leave things here.

Next up are the drawers of the dresser in his closet. The dresser is divided into four drawers, with the top drawer actually being divided into _two_. Castiel has always used one for his socks, and the other for his underwear. There’s no time to organize it nicely, so he just dumps all the socks on top of his underwear and swears he’ll fix it tomorrow.

The next two drawers are fairly full with his pants and the pajamas. But the bottom drawers have been home to a few sweaters that he’s found to take up too much space when he hangs them. Castiel pulls them out and stacks them in a spare space on the shelf above all his clothes. Either he’ll leave them there or he’ll find another place for them. But now Dean has a whole empty drawer to himself.

A door closing in the hallway startles him so much that Castiel actually jumps back from the closet. His bedroom door is mostly shut, but there’s silence out in the hall. The pipes rattle and hiss as the shower starts up and he relaxes marginally. That must be Sam. Knowing Dean and how fastidious he is about cleanliness, he probably showered before they left their motel earlier.

He has a few extra minutes to move some things around in the closet to make an open space above the dresser before there’s a knock at the door.

“Hey, Cas?” The door swings open under the force of the knock and Dean leans into the room. He has his duffle bag over his shoulder. “Is – uh – Is it safe to assume that I’m bunking with you again?”

“Of course.” Castiel steps away from the closet with a smile. “Come in.”

Dean steps into the room and muffles a yawn under his hand. “I’m looking forward to actually getting a solid eight hours toni–” He cuts himself off when he catches sight of the hangers on the bed. “Hm.” He glances at the closet and the open, empty drawers. “Uh – What’s going on?”

Castiel’s wings twitch against his back and he concentrates on keeping them still. “Well, you’re planning on staying until just after New Years, right?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s at least two weeks away.” He crosses his arms to keep himself from fidgeting. “I thought it would be kind of silly for you to be living out of your bag the whole time. And I know that Sam puts his stuff away in the dresser when he’s here, so I thought I would be fair that you could do the same in here.” And Dean still hasn’t said anything, but Castiel can’t stop himself from continuing to talk. “I know it’s not a _big_ step for us, but I thought –”

He’s startled into silence as Dean drops his bag and pushes a finger against his lips. “Thank you.” Dean smiles as he steps into Castiel’s space and pulls him into a hug. “_Thank you_.”

It’s easy to sink into the hug and he nuzzles his face into his shoulder. “You’re not – you’re not _disappointed_, are you? That I’m not – not _ready_ – not –”

“God, no.” Dean pauses as he’s pulling back, just long enough to kiss him on the cheek. “Why would I be? I know you’re not ready for a full relationship yet. We’re just sticking to what you _are_ ready for. I don’t care if it’s sex or sharing closet space.” He grins and taps Castiel on the end of his nose. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

His heart feels too big for his chest and Castiel cups Dean’s face between his hands. He kisses him softly on the lips. “Thank you.”

Castiel is endlessly amused by how the simplest of gestures can make Dean flush a lovely shade of red. He doesn’t blush after sticking his tongue down Castiel’s throat, but a sweet peck on the lips? _Tomato_. It’s adorable.

“I’m just – Yeah. I’m gonna –” Dean nearly trips over his bag as he backs away. “Put away – Yeah.” He picks his duffle bag up and turns away, flushed straight to the tips of his ears.

Dean puts the bag down on the edge of the bed and gets started on putting his clothing away. Castiel could help, but he’s rather enjoying just watching. He feels endlessly _warm_ about it. His wings won’t hold still and they’re rustling against his back; his feathers spreading to the point that they nearly double them in size.

Once Dean actually starts hanging things, Castiel figures it’s a good time to excuse himself. He grabs a pair of pajama pants from the dresser and heads into the washroom to prepare for bed. Unsurprisingly, Dean is finished putting everything away by the time he’s finished changing and brushing his teeth. There really wasn’t that much stuff to unpack to start with. The empty bag is safely tucked away under the bed and Dean looks – he looks _happy_.

“Your turn.” Castiel gestures over his shoulder at the bathroom.

A bright, almost giddy light fills Dean’s eyes. He turns to open the bottom drawer to get a pair of pajamas out. There’s a shirt included in what he grabs and Castiel is a little disappointed. It’s hit and miss on the reasons why Dean chooses to wear a shirt or not. Sometimes he seems embarrassed of his scars and other days he doesn’t. They’re a touchy subject for him and something Castiel tries not to bring focus to very often.

By the time Dean is finished in the bathroom and changed his clothes, Castiel is already in bed and the lights are off except for the one beside the bed. Dean throws his clothes in the hamper and crawls into bed with a loud yawn.

The lights get turned off and they both settle in under the covers. It’s only a few minutes of silence before Dean clears his throat. “So… Uh –” His voice is little more than a murmur in the dark. “What’s the verdict on spooning?”

Castiel hums in thought, considering it for a moment. “I’ll allow it.”

“_Fuck yes_.”

Dean wiggles closer and turns over, giving Castiel all the space he needs to scoot over and tuck up behind his back. He gropes under the blanket until he finds Castiel’s hand and pulls it over his stomach; all put hugging his arm to his chest. Castiel bites back a smile as he folds his wing over the both of them and is instantly rewarded with a heavy, very satisfied sigh.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.”

At that, Castiel can’t hold back a huff of laughter. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the back of Dean’s head. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Mmm. Night, Cas.” Dean relaxes back into him with another pleased sigh.

This is _so comfortable_ and Castiel unwinds into it slowly but surely. That happy little heat in his chest is thumping away with his heart, warming him straight down to his toes. It’s nice not to have to sleep alone again.

It’s even nicer to have Dean _here_.

* * *

** _Monday – December 24th, 2018_ **

They can hear the Christmas carols from the kitchen long before the front door swings open. If it weren’t for the hinge pins that keep it from swinging fully into the wall, it likely would have bounced off the plaster. Castiel drops the bag of chips he’d been in the process of pouring into a bowl. He all but sprints out of the kitchen to the tune of _Jingle Bells_ to find Aunt Amara staggering through the door with a very askew Santa hat on her head and an ugly Christmas sweater peeking through her coat.

Right behind her is Anna. She stumbles in after Aunt Amara, clearly trying to slow her down since she is very obviously inebriated. Anna’s red hair is done up in a bun with bright green garland wrapped around it. She’s also wearing a matching sweater, both of which are flickering lights along their fronts.

“God, Mom, _hold on_.” Anna grabs at the back of Aunt Amara’s coat before she can start going up the stairs with her snowy shoes still on.

Castiel starts down the stairs to block her way – at least until they can get her shoes off. “Auntie! Why are you –”

“Sweetheart!” Aunt Amara throws her arms out to grab him by the face. She kisses him soundly on the mouth. “Merry Christmas, kiddo!”

“Auntie!” He pulls back sharply, already sputtering because she very rarely ever goes for a full kiss. Just how much did she drink?!

Anna winces and hauls Aunt Amara back by the hood of her coat. “Sorry. She had a little too much to drink at the office party.” She kicks the door shut behind her. “I’m pretty sure that the taxi driver will _never_ drive for us again after that truly stunning rendition of _O’ Holy Night_.”

Fantastic. Castiel sighs and waits for Anna to get Aunt Amara out of her shoes before he holds a hand out to her. “Come on, Auntie.” He helps her up the stairs once she’s snow-free. “Let’s get you some water, maybe some snacks. Dean put the appetizers in the oven a few minutes so, so we’ll be ready for movie time soon. Let’s open gifts before that.”

“Presents!” Aunt Amara gasps and spins around. “Anna! Bring me the _presents_!”

“They’re already under the tree, Mom.” Anna sighs and stomps down the stairs to go put their bags with the air mattress that Sam set up for them earlier. He still thinks one of them (probably Aunt Amara, at this point) should have the bed, but they’re both adamant about camping in the basement.

“Hey, Amara.” Dean intercepts her in the hallway, probably to keep her from making a mess of the presents. “How’s it going?”

She grabs him much the same as she did Castiel and, again, kisses him. Sam gets the same thing when he greets her, and then she stumbles past towards the tree. Aunt Amara leaves them both red faced and fidgeting. It’s very different from her usual quick cheek peck.

Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose briefly as she drops to her knees to dig out the pajama gifts from the rest of the pile – much larger than previous years. It’s fairly easy to tell which ones contain the pajamas. They’re the only ones marked by name as who they’re from. Everything else is from Santa – even if he technically wouldn’t have come already.

“Guests first!” Aunt Amara holds out two bags to Sam and Dean. “Sit. Sit! Sit and open them!”

It seems no one is going to get her water and Castiel goes off to get it himself. He comes back with a bottle of water to find Dean and Sam still standing awkwardly with their gifts. “Just do as she says.” Castiel sighs again and opens the bottle before handing it to Aunt Amara. “It’ll be easier for you – for all of us.”

The Winchesters share a look between them before sitting side-by-side on the couch. They open their bags at the same time and Dean lights up instantly. “Holy _shit_!” He pulls a blue onesie with a shell printed on the back from the bag. “Pokémon onesies!” The hood of his onesie looks like Squirtle’s head. “I _love it_!”

Sam pulls out an equally large onesie in a startling orange with an actual _tail_ hanging off the back. “Charmander.” He snorts and shakes his head; an amused smile on his lips. “How appropriate.”

Dean takes one look at it and collapses back into the couch with a cackle. “That’s _fantastic_!”

Castiel is beginning to sense a bit of a theme with their gifts – and he hopes that everything will fit them. Aunt Amara knows his size and Anna’s, but how would she have gotten Dean’s and Sam’s? They’re taller than him (though not by _that_ much) and a little more filled out. Hopefully their onesies will fit.

Anna tears into her gift with the excitement of a five-year-old, while Castiel is a little more sedate with his. Aunt Amara is practically vibrating in place while watching them; her hands clasped tightly at her chest. From his bag, Castiel pulls out a Bulbasaur onesie, and Anna must have gotten a Pikachu – judging by her shriek of delight and the flash of yellow in his peripheral.

She’s on her feet and practically dancing in place with her onesie. Aunt Amara doesn’t even get the chance to ask her if she likes it before Anna is swooping in to hug her. Between one blink and the next, she’s suddenly gone – presumably to go change.

“I think she likes it.” Dean is still giggling to himself where he’s laying against the couch cushion.

“Pikachu has always been her favourite.” Castiel stands up to first give his aunt a kiss on the cheek as thanks, and to get the gift for her to open. “She wanted Pokémon Yellow for the Gameboy specifically because Pikachu follows you around in the game.”

Dean muffles another laugh. “_Shit_, that’s cute.”

“Thank you, Auntie.” Castiel pushes the bag into her hands. “This is for you.”

Aunt Amara rips into it and gasps loudly. With reverent hands, she lifts out a two-piece of silk pajamas in a lovely wine-red colour. “Oh my gosh, sweetie. You shouldn’t have –”

“Oh, it’s not over.” Dean interrupts as he sits up and nods at Sam.

“Right!” Sam leans over and extracts a fancy looking bag from the collection of presents they had brought with them. “A little birdie said you got something for us, so we got something for you.”

“Aren’t you boys just the _sweetest_.” Aunt Amara grabs him by the arm and pulls him off the couch just close enough to smack a loud kiss to his cheek.

Dean snorts and turns a grin on Castiel. “She sure is affectionate when she’s on the sauce, huh?”

There have been _many_ New Year’s Eves where Castiel has been subjected to both Anna and his aunt being clingy and kissy and yes, they _both_ get affectionate when they drink too much. He gives a long-suffering sigh and nods.

Aunt Amara opens the bag and pulls out something long and sheer. The edges and cuffs of what appears to be a truly _ridiculous_ housecoat are lined in red faux fur; standing out against the black of the sheer fabric. Castiel’s jaw drops and he tries not to blush because _why in the world _would they get her something like _that_?

The smile Dean turns on him leads him to believe that Dean knows exactly what he’s thinking. “It’s just something for you to wear when the police arrive on your doorstep to tell you that your rich husband died mysteriously.”

Both Castiel and Aunt Amara look at him in confusion, though she is running her fingers appreciatively over the sheer sleeve in her hand. Dean leans to one side to pull his phone out of his back pocket. He flicks through it for a few moments before passing it over to them to show the [meme](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b2/d4/a0/b2d4a08fd7a7d193da8764f516fb82aa.jpg) on the screen.

Immediately, Aunt Amara dissolves into full giggles. “It’s perfect. Thank you, boys.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam is still standing and he helps her to her feet. “Why don’t you go change in the spare bedroom?”

Anna chooses then to teleport back into the center of the room in her Pikachu onesie. She spins around in a circle so everyone can see the ears on her head and the 3D tail sewn into the back of the onesie. “Pika-pi!”

“Aren’t you adorable?” Dean laughs and pulls the hood down further over her eyes as he walks by. “Watch the appies for us, okay? We’re going to get changed.”

Sam and Aunt Amara deviate to their respective rooms; Sam taking the bathroom to change. Dean and Castiel head into their bedroom together and shut the door behind them. He didn’t look too closely at his Bulbasaur onesie when he took it out of the bag, but he assumes the back has been modified for his wings as has every pair of pajamas that he’s gotten for Christmas since his wings grew in. It’s slightly disappointing because the image of the bulb is probably mostly missing.

Or so he thought. When Castiel holds it up to inspect it properly, he’s delighted to find that the back has been cut into a flap with a Velcro top. The bulb is still mostly visible as a flap that can get folded up between his wings once he has the onesie on. He’s definitely going to need a second set of hands to help him with that.

Castiel lays the onesie out on the edge of the bed. “Dean, I’m going to need your assistance with this.”

Dean looks up from undoing his belt. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly looks away again as soon as Castiel starts to strip down to his underwear. By the time he’s fully undressed, Dean has removed only his pants and has actually turned his back to him. Aw, is he embarrassed to watch him undress? That’s cute. It’s not like Castiel doesn’t sleep shirtless every night and _this_ is what gets him?

“Okay, I need your help now.”

Castiel picks up his onesie and steps into the legs. Dean looks distinctly flushed as he steps over to hold up the back of the onesie for him. It’s a bit difficult to maneuver his wings into the hole in the back, considering the size of them and the hole not being very big. If it wasn’t for Dean’s guiding them through one at a time, he might not have been able to manage it.

Once his wings are through, he pulls the onesie over his arms and zips it up to the base of his throat. Dean takes the hanging string of the bulb and carefully makes sure no feathers get bent as he sticks it back into place. Castiel pulls the hood over his head and stifles a giggle at his reflection in the mirror as he peeks out under the edge. These might be the best pajamas his aunt has ever gotten them – and he _loves_ that she included the Winchesters in it.

“How do I look?” Castiel turns to Dean with a smile and his arms out.

Dean takes his time answering. He taps his fingers against his chin and hums as he looks Castiel over from head to toe. Finally, he nods and reaches out to tap the end of his nose. “Cute as a _button_.”

With that, he turns away to pull his sweater over his head and focus on getting into his Squirtle onesie. Castiel tries _very hard _not to stare, and to respect Dean’s general desire not to have his scars on display, but _oh_. He’s just _fascinated_ by Dean’s scars. His fingers twitch with the desire to reach out and trace each one with his fingertips again. A part of him wants to kiss the angrier looking ones – the ones that Dean probably wants to cover up the most – just to remind Dean that they don’t bother him.

Castiel ends up taking a step closer before he catches himself and turns away quickly. Instead, he focuses on gathering up their abandoned clothing to dump in the hamper. He doesn’t realize that his wings have fluffed up and are twitching against his back until gentle fingers are running through his feathers in a soft petting motion.

“Did you know that you’ve been reacting with your wings more and more lately?”

“No, I’m not.” Castiel folds them flat to his back to keep them from moving, and purposefully does _not_ stare at the tantalizing strip of skin showing down Dean’s chest.

“You definitely are.” Dean grins and finishes zipping up, covering up completely. Castiel only mourns it for a moment before he shakes himself out. “It’s a _good _thing, Cas. That means you’re more accepting of them now. They’re not so much of a burden anymore.” Dean reaches out to touch them again, and Castiel can’t bring himself to stop him this time. He bites his lip when Dean brings the end of his wing to his lips to press a kiss into his feathers.

Heat floods Castiel’s face and he steps away quickly, pulling his wings out of Dean’s hands. “I’m sure I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

He refuses to meet Dean’s eyes as he ducks around him to head back out into the hallway. Dean’s laughter follows him before footsteps give away that he’s coming too. They nearly bump straight into Aunt Amara as he comes out of the spare bedroom. She’s let her hair down and has her head held high in an almost snooty kind of way as she sweeps down the hall; her house coat billowing behind her.

“I feel so _regal_.” She announces in a hoity tone. “Quick, someone get me a glass of Chardonnay and a chaise lounge to elegantly drape myself over.”

Aunt Amara only stumbles once on her way into the living room. She collapses over the armchair with a put-upon huff. A moment passes before she folds in on herself with a giggle and reaches for the Santa hat she left on the table with her abandoned water bottle.

“We’ll get you some wine after you finish your water.” Anna picks up the bottle and tosses it into Aunt Amara’s lap from her place curled up on the end of the couch.

Castiel takes up the other corner of the couch, and Sam has already laid full claim to the recliner; stretched out with the feet propped up on the footrest and the tail of his onesie draped over an armrest. Dean checks on the appetizers, which should be done shortly, before he gets the TV set up for the next of their movies.

Technically speaking, they’re only watching one movie tonight along with an animated Christmas special that Castiel realized isn’t even a whole half hour long. Which is perfect, because it’s fairly late because they couldn’t start until it was acceptable for Anna and Aunt Amara to leave the dental office’s party. It’s been a long day of some prep for tomorrow’s big dinner, a visit to the graveyard, and any last-minute things they needed from the grocery store.

When the appetizers are ready, they pause _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ and Castiel helps Dean get everything plated. All the food and snacks are spread out on the coffee table and everyone has their own little plate to fill.

They put a decent dent into the spread by the time they get started on _Miracle on 34th Street_. It’s part of the Milton/Novak tradition and Castiel could probably recite along word for word if he wanted to.

Deans ends up on the couch between him and Anna. But, as the movie plays, he ends up leaning more and more into Castiel’s side. He’s really turning Castiel into quite the cuddlebug, especially as he doesn’t hesitate to put an arm around Dean’s shoulders to let him curl up even closer. This was something he grew accustomed to long before all the _confusion_ began.

The more time he spends with Dean, the more _ready_ he feels for – for _more_. Castiel certainly still has _some_ reservations, but – but maybe that’s something they can work through. There’s still plenty of time for a holiday miracle.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Tuesday – December 25th, 2018_ **

There’s a familiar song humming somewhere above his head. Castiel is slow to wake up; enjoying the feeling of fingers combing through his hair and through his feathers. He can feel the song vibrating under his cheek, which is weird. Why would his pillow – Oh. Never mind. That’s _definitely_ Dean’s chest he’s lying on and it is _obscenely_ comfortable. How is that possible when Dean is so muscled and scarred and _oh God_.

A pleased groan rumbles in his throat as Dean’s fingers rake over a particularly sensitive part of his scalp. Castiel smiles into the shirt under his cheek and turns his face to nuzzle closer. He has an arm draped around Dean’s waist and he tightens it, pressing closer because everything about this feels _so good_.

The song – one Castiel is pretty sure is by _The Beatles_ – stops in the midst of a little laugh that makes him jiggle a bit on Dean’s chest. “Finally awake, hm?” Those magic fingers drag over his scalp again, nails pressing in just lightly. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

He stretches, languid and comfortable. His responding, “Mer’chrimmas,” is almost muffled entirely into the t-shirt Dean wore to bed. They changed before they went to sleep because the onesies, while _very_ cute and much appreciated, were a bit too cumbersome to actually sleep in.

Dean chuckles and Castiel can feel lips against his hairline. “So, coffee or presents first?”

“Coffee.” Castiel yawns widely, jaw cracking, and spreads his wings out behind him. He resists the urge to arch like a cat. “_Always_.”

That makes Dean laugh again and he presses another kiss to his forehead. “Well, why don’t you lift your head up and get your first Christmas present.”

Castiel hums and lifts his head. He knows the curtain is drawn back because it’s lighter on the other side of his eyelids than it should be. Part of him doesn’t want to open his eyes, but he does anyway; slitting them open. “If it’s a kiss and not a cup of coffee, I’m going to be _very_ disappointed.”

Another laugh, this time louder, makes him _bounce_ in place. Dean leans over and Castiel is surprised to find that they are very much on his side of the bed. Never in his life has he been a bed-drifter, and yet here he is on the other side of the King-sized mattress from where he started. It must be a side effect of wanting to cuddle Dean all night.

They’re in full reach of the side-table and Dean is able to get the travel mug he left on it. There’s a cute little gift-wrap bow stuck to the side, and Castiel can’t help smiling at it.

“Here ya’ go, handsome. Merry Christmas.”

“You’re the _best_.” Castiel groans and abandons their cuddle to push up onto his hands and knees.

He kisses Dean first before sitting back cross-legged to take the coffee. It smells _amazing_ and he knows, before taking that first sip, that it’s going to be just the way he likes it. Dean always makes the best coffee and Castiel gets spoiled more and more every time he visits.

That first sip confirms it and he all but moans around the lip of the travel mug. “Definitely the best.”

“Me or the coffee?” Dean tucks his arms behind his head and grins. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “You probably wouldn’t be saying the same if you saw what kind of dick I am when you’re not around.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re only _acting_ when you’re with me?”

“Definitely.” His grin is teasing as it gets wider. “Anything to make you like me more.”

“And what happens once I _do_ like you more?” He hums as he takes another sip of his coffee, watching Dean from over the edge of his mug.

Dean shrugs and slides a little further down the pillow. “Well, by that point I imagine that you’ll have me converted entirely.” He brings his arms out in front of him, weaves his fingers together, and stretches them out while arching his back off the bed with a groan. “The sweet studmuffin you see before you now will _never_ be able to go back to being an ass.”

It’s too early and not enough caffeine for laughter, but Castiel still manages a quiet chuckle. He reaches out to catch Dean’s wrist and tugs it closer so he can get to his hand. Their fingers slide together easily, linking up like they were always meant to be that way. Dean’s expression softens and he smiles; rubbing his thumb over Castiel’s knuckles.

After a moment, his grin turns silly. “Your hair is all kinds of fucked up right now.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “How many times did you run your fingers through it while I was sleeping, hm?”

“I plead the fifth.”

Of course. He snorts and takes another sip of his coffee. “Is anyone else up yet?” Castiel glances at the alarm clock, surprised to see that it’s nearly nine o’clock.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, just me.” He continues rubbing Castiel’s knuckles, the gentle gesture more heartwarming than it has any right being. “I had to empty the tank, and then I figured I would put the coffee on for when everyone wakes up. Then I thought I should make one for you first.”

“Thank you.” Castiel squeezes his fingers. “It’s best to let everyone sleep. We all had a long night.”

“And what are we going to do while they’re sleeping?” Both eyebrows go up, waggling slightly.

It’s just a tease – just how Dean is – but it sets something stirring inside of him. Castiel hums and untangles their fingers so he can hold up a finger. “First, I finish my coffee.” He holds up a second finger. “Then, I use the bathroom.” A third goes up too. “I brush my teeth.” And then a fourth. “And then we can make out.”

Dean’s eyes go wide and he sits up slowly, carrying out the whole motion without first needing to prop himself up on his arms or even swing his legs to get the momentum. It’s an impressive use of his abs and Castiel’s mouth goes briefly dry despite the coffee on his tongue.

“Seriously?”

Castiel considers his decision for a moment before nodding. “Seriously.” He takes another long sip of coffee, savouring it before swallowing. “I’ll even allow you to touch my wings.” He pauses again. “But _not_ the glands.”

Stars practically fill Dean’s eyes. He’s disbelieving and excited all at once. “Is it my birthday?”

“No.” Castiel smiles and shakes his head. “But it _is_ Christmas.” He slowly lowers the almost empty travel mug. “It’s Christmas and I’m feeling… _generous_.” That’s the best word he can think of at this point in time. But now that he’s put it out there, he doesn’t want to take it back.

Dean laughs and he drapes himself back over the pillows. “Hell yes. I’ll take whatever I can get.” Despite his relaxed position, he’s practically vibrating in place – especially when his eyes drift to trace Castiel’s wings. “Hey – uh – When was the last time you groomed your wings?”

It doesn’t take a psychic to figure out _why_ he’s asking that. Castiel just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You were there for it.”

That excited light fills Dean’s eyes again and he bites his lip. “Can we groom them?” He looks so _hopeful_ as he sits forward. “C’mon. Don’t you want to have some nice and shiny wings for our first Christmas photos together?”

The idea is appealing, but Castiel does see one issue with the plan. “If we do that, we’ll have to wait for you to have another _long shower_ before we can go open our presents.”

“Not true.” Dean presses his lips together in a frown, but he at least has the courtesy to blush.

“Yes, true.” Castiel shrugs and drains the last of his coffee. “The only reason you didn’t the last time we groomed them was because you were _very_ mad at me.” He pauses, before deciding _what the hell_ and finishing. “And I was being very careful to not make any _noises_ at the time.”

Dean flushes even darker. “Since when did you get so _blatant_ about these kinda things, huh?”

Castiel regards him for a long moment before leaning forward and cupping Dean’s cheek. He glances his thumb over the bridge of his nose and cheekbone. “Since I noticed that you started to blush like this.” There’s a deep satisfaction humming behind his breast bone as the blush deepens and he can actually _feel_ the heat of it. “It’s a very fetching colour on you.”

Has he ever flirted so blatantly with Dean before? Castiel isn’t certain, but he’s definitely in _some_ kind of mood today. He woke up in the best of ways, greeted by one of his most favourite people with _coffee_. It’s hard not to feel happy.

“You – you –!” Dean grabs one of the pillows and lifts it above his head like he’s going to hit him with it.

“Ah-ah-ah.” Castiel holds up his hand and points at his empty travel mug – not that Dean knows it’s empty. “If this spills in my bed, you’re banned to the couch for the rest of the visit.”

Dean stares him down, likely calculating the odds and just how much coffee Castiel has gone through. Eventually, he huffs and drops the pillow, turning away to sulk. Castiel hums, pleased with himself as he officially drains the last of his coffee. He pushes the empty cup into Dean’s hands so he can hold it while he gets off the bed.

It’s a long way to his side of the bed, even though it’s closer to the bathroom. Castiel figures the shortest route to the edge of the bed is _over_ Dean, and that’s yet another way to tease him. He might blush even more and that – Oh yes, Castiel would _love_ to see that.

While holding Dean’s confused eyes with his, Castiel gets up on his knees. As slow as can be, he slings a leg over both of Dean’s to briefly straddle them. There’s an immediate reaction as Dean’s grip on the travel mug turns tight and he goes _very _still. His mouth goes slack and Castiel steals a moment to lean in and press a quick kiss to the corner of it – and then promptly continues his roll until he’s off the edge of the bed and on his feet.

With his back to Dean, Castiel laces his fingers together and stretches his arms above his head with a groan. His spine pops in several places and he spreads his wings out, flapping them one to give them the stretch they need. Dean makes a choked noise, and it’s the kind of sound that Castiel can feel in his _bones_. A warm, soupy feeling fills his belly, and he’s strangely proud to know what kind of effect he has on Dean.

Keeping true to his words, Castiel does use the bathroom, though perhaps a little faster than he normally would. Same with brushing his teeth and washing his face. He does take a moment to give himself a sniff test and applies a little deodorant, just in case.

By the time he’s finished and sliding the door open again, the caffeine is in full swing as it pumps through his system. His heart has climbed into his throat because now that he’s been separated from the _temptation_ that is Dean Winchester, he’s had a chance to fully realize what exactly it is that he’s promised to do.

They’ve kissed before. A number of times, in fact, but they’ve never actually _made out_ for an extended period of time. He didn’t specify how long they would be doing it today. It could be a long time, or no time at all and –

Dean is sitting up in bed again. In the time that Castiel was in the bathroom, Dean made the bed and he’s lying on top of the blanket with his back against the headboard. His hands are resting in his lap and he is literally twiddling his thumbs; whistling a quiet tune to himself. Clearly, he’s trying not to look as excited as he probably is and that – that’s really cute.

Castiel takes a deep breath and steps back into the room. He wants this. He wants _Dean_, and in the face of that, his anxieties about this moment are almost fully gone.

Quietly, Castiel pads around to Dean’s side of the bed again. He crawls back on the same way he left, though this time he doesn’t go all the way. He sits across Dean’s knees and it – it’s awkward. Just a little. Castiel has never sat in someone’s lap like this, and he sucks in a sharp breath as Dean’s hands immediately move to rest on his thighs.

“You sure you wanna sit there?” Dean asks quietly, squeezing his thighs lightly. “We could – I mean, it might be better to lie down again like we were before.” To emphasize his point, he wiggles down a little further. “I just figure that might be more comfortable?”

That little wiggle made Dean’s shirt ride up somewhat. Castiel looks down between them and he can’t resist bringing his hands to the strip of skin that’s been revealed. The curve of a scar can be seen and he runs his thumb along its edge. Maybe Dean wants them to stretch out to increase the amount of contact between them.

It hasn’t escaped Castiel’s notice that Dean is very much a tactile person. He probably _craves_ touch. It’s in his nature and – and how touch-starved was Dean before their friendship developed to this point? Is that why he instigated cuddling so early into getting to know one another? Castiel wouldn’t be surprised, especially given Dean’s hang ups about his scars.

He rubs his thumb against the one little scar that he can see. “Okay. I’ll lie down on one condition.”

Dean rubs his hands up and down the outside of his thighs, keeping the touch light and gentle. “Yeah?”

Castiel catches his fingers in the hem of Dean’s shirt and tugs at it lightly. “You take this off.”

“Uh –” Dean blinks once, twice, three times and looks down at his shirt. “Um –”

“Please?” He opens his eyes wide and adopts the sad-puppy look that Sam taught him. It’s apparently _very_ effective on Dean.

This time, however, it seems to be up against Dean’s own nerves. He shifts under Castiel, brows drawn tight and mouth twisted into an unsure grimace. “Can –” Dean chews his bottom lip. “Can we close the curtains? Please?”

Without a word, Castiel rises up on his knees and tugs the curtains closed. It takes them from the semi-dark of the early winter morning into something akin to full dark. The only light in the room now is the pale glow behind the flipping numbers of his alarm clock. It’s just enough for Castiel to be able to see the shape of Dean, though he wonders if he’s as clearly outlined for him.

“Better?”

There’s definitely relief in Dean’s voice as he sits up and starts to pull his shirt over his head. “Yeah, much better.”

As soon as his shirt is out of the way, Castiel’s hands are on his stomach. He smoothes them up Dean’s sides and over his chest, seeking out every dip and divot of scar tissue that he can find. It’s like a topological map of his life, and Castiel tries to find by memory the ones that he knows the stories of.

“I don’t mind them, you know?” Castiel hums, his fingers slipping into the groove on Dean’s shoulder and tracing it gently. “They’re just another part of you.”

The irony of his words is not lost on him. 

“I know.” Dean covers Castiel’s hands, bringing their mapping to a stop. His voice sounds thick in the darkness. “I just –”

Castiel leans forward slowly until their foreheads bump. “I know.” The issues that Dean has with his scars are not so very different from Castiel’s issues with his wings. He still doesn’t like them, but perhaps he doesn’t hate them as much as he did before. Before _Dean_.

They nuzzle their foreheads together, noses brushing occasionally, before Dean tilts his chin up. He catches Castiel’s mouth with his; lips moving softly against them. Castiel sighs into the kiss, savouring it, before an idea occurs to him. With no effort at all, he flexes his arms and sharply shoves Dean down and back against the pillows again.

Dean gives a squeak of surprise. “What was _that_ for?”

“You said you wanted to lie down.” Castiel shrugs as he stretches out too, lying half-on half-off Dean much like he was when he woke up. He hooks one leg between his, one arm cupped under his shoulders and the other exploring every scar within reach. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“_Fuck_ yeah.” Dean breathes out, curling one arm around Castiel’s waist as he pulls him closer. His other hand follows up his arm, drawing idle patterns until he finds the curve of his jaw. With gentle fingers, Dean guides them back into a kiss.

It takes a while – an infinite while – for Dean’s touch to eventually drift to his wings. His hand slips from the small of Castiel’s back, carding lightly into the downy feathers covering the space between the joints connected to his shoulder blades. It’s a scratching, soothing kind of petting motion and it feels _divine_. Castiel rumbles a groan in the back of his throat and presses impossibly closer.

The scars on Dean’s chest bring an interesting texture to the slide of skin on skin whenever they adjust for a better position. Castiel adores it. The feeling is so very _Dean_ and he couldn’t imagine anything otherwise. He wouldn’t _want_ anything else.

Every so often, Dean surges up as if he wants to force Castiel over and onto his back. He reels himself in just as quickly, hauling Castiel a little more on top of him every time he does it. If Dean _really_ wanted to be the one on top, they could put a pillow between his wings. Unfortunately it wouldn’t last for very long. His joints would get very sore _very_ fast.

So much is happening all at once – hands and teeth and tongue and the subtle roll of their bodies. Castiel tries to focus on what Dean does and mimic it in kind. He’s still very much a novice at kissing and he wants to get better at it for Dean. It’s not like he has anyone else he can practice on – not that he _would_ even if he did. He’s very much attracted to Dean and Dean alone.

There are a lot of little details to keep track of – taste, touch, technique. Castiel focuses on all of that instead of letting himself get lost in the _feeling_ of it all. He could lose himself very quickly and – and if that happens, they might very well end up dry humping on Christmas morning. The thought of that is both terrifying and exhilarating. And _that_ is something he will need to analyze later. When he’s _ready_.

Castiel isn’t sure _when_, but it feels like too soon and an eternity before those fingers in his feathers start to drift. As soon as he notices that they’re seeking _under_ one of his wings, he sharply bites into Dean’s bottom lip. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it’s certainly a warning. Dean jerks under him with a groan that comes closer in pitch to a whine. He arches up into him, and there’s a curious hardness against Castiel’s hip that wasn’t quite there before.

“Don’t.” He sighs into Dean’s mouth. “Don’t touch that.”

They’re both panting heavily against one another, and Dean flexes his fingers where they are. “But I bet it will feel_ really_ good.”

With a huff, Castiel shifts his weight up and off of Dean until he’s kneeling again. It has the added bonus of putting some distance between the half-hard erection starting to tent Dean’s pajama pants. Castiel reaches back to grab Dean’s wrist and pulls his hand away. He finds the other hand on the back of his neck and removes that too.

Dean settles into the pillow and his sigh is heavily resigned. “Are we done making out now?”

“No.” Castiel hums and exerts a little more of his strength into pressing Dean’s hands into the mattress on either side of his hips. “But I _am_ going to keep you from touching me. Consider it punishment.”

“Y-Yeah?” Dean swallows loud enough to actually _hear_ the click of his throat.

Instead of answering, Castiel dips down to press a kiss to the first bit of skin he can find. Judging by the feel, it’s his chest. He estimates somewhere around his left pectoral.

“Uh –” Dean’s throat clicks again. “Um – Cas?”

The breathy quality to his voice is _very_ encouraging. Castiel feels light headed as he continues. He wants to hear how else he can make Dean’s voice change; make his breath skip and stutter in his chest. If the lights were on, he would want to see how his body reacts to _him_.

It’s a heady feeling to have someone like _Dean Winchester_ pliant and squirming under him. That feeling is going right to Castiel’s head and, against his better judgment, he loses himself in the desire – no, the _need_ – to continue drawing more out of him.

Castiel drops kisses along Dean’s skin, moving upwards. He pauses to drop a kiss to any scar he finds along the way, going until he reaches his clavicle. When he finds the hard jut of bone beneath Dean’s throat, he can’t resist scraping his teeth over it and grinning at how desperately Dean tries to muffle a gasp; body arching as he presses his head into the pillow.

His breath is coming harder and faster. “_Cas_.”

Oh, but his name wrapped in that breathy exhale sounds _so good_. Castiel hums in answer and lifts his head enough to nose at Dean’s pulse. He smells amazing there, in the crook of his neck. Gently, Castiel places a delicate kiss to that truly vulnerable place. His tongue flicks out to taste the salt of his skin and, because he’s always wanted to try this with someone, he seals his mouth to that thundering pulse, presses his teeth into the skin lightly, and _sucks_.

The response is immediate and perfect, all at once.

Dean’s whole body reacts; rolling off the bed in a sinuous movement that sparks at something deep within. His breathing climbs in pitch, a gasping, delicious cry that Castiel desperately wants to hear more of. He wants to leave as much of a mark as he can – purely _because_ he can. With another roll of his body, Dean’s hips meet Castiel’s thigh again. It’s enough to understand that he is _definitely_ fully aroused now and there is nothing _half hard _about it.

And that’s it.

Castiel is snapped back to reality rather sharply. He’s gone far and beyond what he had planned to do. With a gasp, he jerks back and lands on his ass, scooting back until there’s _distance_ between them. Distance enough to breathe. Distance enough that the tingling of his lips and the taste of the sweat of Dean’s skin on his tongue doesn’t immediately make him want to dive back in.

He’s half-hard in his pants too and _this was not the plan **at all**._

Thankfully, Dean doesn’t move to follow. He remains flat on his back, taking in great heaving breaths that still sound too harsh in the dark of the bedroom. “Holy shit.”

“I –” Castiel covers his mouth. He feels dizzy and sick and so much more.

“Holy _shit_.” Dean reiterates, swallowing thickly.

Castiel can hear it in sharp relief. More than that, he _felt_ what that was like under his lips and it sends a bolt of heat to pool in his gut.

“Why –” There’s a pause and the slick sound of a tongue running over lips. “Jesus Christ, Cas, why did you _stop_?”

It was too much.

Too much and too little and Castiel _isn’t ready_. He got carried away and now he’s starting to _freak out_ because he – he didn’t _want_ any of _this_. Not yet. Not _now_. He isn’t ready. He’s _not_.

Instead of making out, they should have been talking. They should have discussed how they could make a relationship between them _work_ instead of – instead of giving into their basest animal desires. Dean is gone for a month or more at a time. How could they maintain a romantic relationship when he never _stays for good_?

This is a monumental discussion hanging over their heads and Castiel chose to _make out_ instead of actually talking about it. How _stupid_ could he be. They –

“Cas. _Cas_.” Dean’s hands are suddenly on either side of his face and Castiel is blinking the morning sun out of his eyes. “Hey now, hey. Look at me. That’s right, buddy. Look at me.”

Oh for _fuck’s_ sake. Did this really send him into a _panic attack_? How pathetic can he be?

“Deep breaths, Cas.” Dean inhales through his nose and exhales through his mouth; repeating it until Castiel begins to follow. “There we go. It’s not a big deal, right? Yeah, definitely not. We just got a little carried away, okay? Just like everyone does every once in a while. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Castiel wheezes his way through trying to match Dean’s breathing. But it gets very difficult when he catches sight of the dark bruise he left on Dean’s throat. His goddamn _tongue_ tingles, wanting to press against it again and make it darker because how long before it fades from his skin? If Dean can heal a broken bone in a week, then a hickey probably won’t even last an _hour_.

“C’mon, Cas.” Dean taps his thumb against his cheek. “Look at me.” It takes a great effort to meet Dean’s eyes again. When he does, Dean breaks into a smile and the tap turns into a rub. “There we go. That’s it. You’re doing great.”

He does feel like he’s calming down, but it’s terribly slow going. Castiel also ends up barreling head first into a brick wall of _guilt_ because he just ruined what was a wonderful moment. On Christmas morning, no less.

“Let’s check on that heart rate, huh?” Dean slips his hand down to Castiel’s throat and lays a few fingers against his pulse. “Oh, good. It’s going down. You’re doing awesome, bud.”

It still takes quite a while for Castiel to find his tongue. Of course, the first words out of his mouth have to be an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Dean shrugs, smile soft.

But he can’t not be. “I ruined it.” It, of course, being _everything_.

“You didn’t ruin anything, Cas.” Dean tilts his head, eyes crinkling in understanding. “You found your limit, that’s all.”

Castiel shakes his head. “But I – I got you all worked up.” He looks down between them, but quickly looks away before he actually sees any evidence that Dean might still be aroused. “And now – now I’m _blue balling_ you.”

There’s a moment of silence where Dean stares at him, mouth ajar. And then he dissolves into a giggling fit that has him collapsing back into the pillows. He hugs his stomach, all but rolling and kicking in his near hysterics.

“What - What’s so funny?” Castiel frowns, blinking at him.

Dean wheezes loudly and takes several minutes to get his laughter under control. “I – I – never thought I’d hear you say _that_!” He mimes wiping a tear from under his eyes. “Fucking _fantastic_. Oh my God. Say it again!”

Castiel crosses his arms. “I will _not_.”

That only makes Dean laugh a little harder. When he calms down again, he waves his hand between them. “It’s fine, Cas. I’m okay. Nothing really kills a boner like your partner going into a panic attack.”

Oh, really? He feels a little safer glancing down this time, only to find that there’s still a tent to the front of Dean’s pajama pants. Heat floods Castiel’s face and he looks away sharply. “B-but you’re still hard!”

“Barely.” Dean shrugs and stretches out. “I can get rid of it in no time at all.” When Castiel raises an eyebrow at him, Dean starts listing gross things. “Popping pimples. Ingrown toenails. Bobby wearing an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka-dot bikini. A wax strip from waxing Sam’s leg hair.”

“Ugh.” Castiel’s nose wrinkles. “Dean, that’s _gross_.”

Dean grins and gestures down at his lap. “Exactly. Boner officially killed.”

“You and me both.” Although he’s fairly sure that his panic attack took care of it.

The room goes silent again, and then Dean sits up so sharply that it has Castiel flinching back in surprise. “You - You – You were _hard_?”

Castiel can feel his face grow hot again. He looks away and fidgets with the tie of his pajama pants. “A little bit.”

“Holy shit.” Dean whispers to himself, and then smacks himself in the forehead. “Manure! Plucked Chickens! Galaxy Quest inside-out pig lizard! _Donald Trump_!”

“What are you _doing_?” Castiel reaches out to stop him from continuing to hit himself.

Dean’s whole body droops with his sigh. “I had to kill my boner again. Hearing that you were turned on turned _me_ on again.”

“Wow.” That’s really all he can think to say to that.

With a heavy sigh, Dean settles back into the pillows and holds his arms out. “Come cuddle with me? I promise there will be no inappropriate wing touchings, arousing kisses, or boners. Just cuddles.”

“I think I can do that.” Castiel takes a deep breath and slowly crawls forward. He stretches out along Dean’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. “Yes, I think I can do this.”

Dean hums and he turns his nose into Castiel’s hair. “Me too.”

Castiel makes the wise choice not to say anything about the curtain still being open. Dean isn’t wearing a shirt and his scars are in full view. It’s one of the rare times where he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and Castiel doesn’t want to bring any attention to it. So he looks. He looks at everything he can see without moving, taking it all in to distract himself from what just happened. Counts the scars while he counts his breaths to keep calm.

It’s a miracle that Dean is just _so _understanding. Castiel is eternally grateful for it. If Dean was anyone else, they would have probably been mad at him. They would have accused him of leading them on – which is something that Castiel worries about endlessly. It’s not like he _wants_ to be like this. And it’s really not a matter of _if_ he’s ever going to be ready for a relationship with Dean and all that such a thing entails. It’s a matter of _when _and – and now isn’t that time.

Right?

Dean’s breathing evens out while Castiel is wrapped up in his thoughts. Eventually he manages to drift off somewhat too, lost in his thoughts. They doze together until Anna knocks non-stop on the door, shouting about how they’re the only ones still sleeping and to get the _hell up already_.

Everyone had gone to bed fairly late last night and they were all exhausted when they did. Aunt Amara ended up passed out on the couch and no one bothered to try and move her to the basement. Anna didn’t mind, because that meant she had the whole bed to herself – though Sam was still convinced that Aunt Amara should be given his room and _he_ should take the couch. He was all but forced to bed to keep him from disturbing her.

Despite how tired they all were when they went to bed last night, the house is fairly lively come the morning. There’s laughter in the kitchen and the clanking of dishes, pots and pans, cupboards and the fridge. Christmas music is already playing in the living room.

It’s definitely louder than when it’s just Castiel, Anna, and Aunt Amara. And especially when Dean beelines for the kitchen, lecture in full swing about how _he’s_ the designated cook and they better not be making anything big because he’s got a _plan_ for breakfast and how _dare_ anyone make _anything_.

“Toast, Dean.” Sam sighs. “I’m just making a slice of _toast_.”

“Don’t you _dare_ spoil your appetite.”

Castiel can’t help smiling as he makes himself another cup of coffee. He forgoes any pre-breakfast snacks to avoid a lecture of his own and escapes to the living room to get comfortable on the couch and just _listen_. It’s taken him a while to get used to it, but he’s happy to have the house loud and noisy again. In fact, he’s come to love it. If he closes his eyes, he could almost pretend that it’s like his parents are still alive and that he has a real family again.

* * *

** _Monday – December 31st, 2018_ **

“It’s a shame you’re not coming.” Castiel balances his phone between his ear and shoulder while lifting the lid off the slow cooker. He needs his other hand to hold the wooden spoon and stir the cheesy meaty dip thing that Dean is making for tonight. “Who else is going to drink us under the table?”

Aunt Amara’s laugh is a bit subdued, given that she’s currently at work. “_I imagine Dean will kick your asses this time. He literally can’t get drunk_.” He can hear the smile in her voice, and it makes something ache in his chest knowing that this will be the first New Year’s Eve in a long time where she won’t be celebrating with them.

“Oh, probably.” He sighs, scraping the sides of the crock pot. “But we’re still going to miss you tonight.”

“_I know, sweetie_.” She does sound a little sad about it, which is mollifying to some extent. “_But I think, maybe, that this year I should party with people my own age. Now, I know two Winchesters aren’t even half as fun as your hot auntie, but you’re just going to have to make do._”

Castiel rolls his eyes and taps the spoon clean. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“_You’ll be fine_.” Aunt Amara laughs again. “_If you drink enough, you won’t even notice that I’m not there! Sadly, I won’t be your first kiss of the year like usual, but I’m sure Dean will take care of that._” To add insult to injury, she starts making kissing noises into the phone.

“Of course he will.” Castiel puts the spoon aside and puts the lid back on the slow cooker. “I fully intend to make sure of that.”

Aunt Amara gasps loudly and drops her voice into a whisper, though he can’t imagine there’s anyone at her work that would be eavesdropping on something like this. “_Does that mean you two finally –? How could you not **tell** me!?_”

Dammit. “No, Auntie.” He switches his phone to his other ear as he cuts through the dining room into the living room. “Not yet.”

Anna and the Winchesters are in the midst of having a _Super Smash Bros_ battle. Castiel itches to join them, but he has to get some work done since he’s been slacking for the last few weeks. The holidays tend to do that to him. Having such big _distractions_ around don’t help much.

“_Aw, sweetie, c’mon._” Aunt Amara’s voice pitches into a wheedling whine. “_You can tell me. I promise that I won’t tell Anna!_”

“There’s really nothing to tell, Auntie.” He pauses to watch the screen, pleased to see that Anna has more lives left than either Winchester. “Not right now, at least. Maybe later.” Though he doesn’t exactly know when that _later_ will be.

A knowing hum echoes through the phone line. “_Ah, are there too many ears around right now?_”

“Yes.” He can’t talk to her about his issues with Dean when the Winchester in question is within ear shot. “In a sense.”

“_Well then, why don’t you just listen to me say some things._”

Uh oh. He knows that tone. “Okay. Just let me get back to my office.”

Dean glances at him, eyebrow raised. Anna immediately takes advantage of the distraction to shout “YEET!” and promptly launches Dean’s character off the platform. Even that isn’t enough to get Dean to turn back to participating. He’s starting to look _concerned_ and Castiel smiles at him, shaking his head to let him know that things are fine.

Once Dean returns to the game while swearing vengeance against Anna, Castiel turns down the hall to return to his office. He drops into his desk chair and swivels around to face the computer. “Alright, I’m here. I’m listening.”

Aunt Amara has never been known for being subtle. “_My favourite nephew, listen closely. You. Are. In. A. Relationship. With. That. Boy. You need to stop stringing him along._”

Castiel goes still in the middle of reopening one of his files. “What? I’m not –” Oh God. Does everyone else think that’s what he’s doing?

“_Sorry, baby. You’re basically dating him already._”

“No, we aren’t –”

“_Castiel James Novak_.” Oh dear. The use of his full name. “_Listen to what I’m saying. You’re in a relationship. Just because you haven’t officially announced it as such doesn’t mean that you aren’t. You kiss, you cuddle, you sleep together. Dean obviously adores you and we all know how much you like him. I don’t know why you’re still playing the shy game, but don’t you dare hurt that boy by leading him on anymore._”

He can’t quite seem to be able to find his tongue to answer. They’re both quiet for a long time, letting the lecture really _sink in_.

“You should get back to work, Auntie.” Castiel sighs softly and slumps, sinking down until his wings reach the top of the back of the chair. “Those teeth won’t clean themselves.”

She huffs loudly, starting to sound a little annoyed. “_I’m not cleaning teeth today. If you had listened to me earlier, I got called in to help with an emergency dental_.”

In a desperate attempt to keep the heat off of him, Castiel continues focusing on anything else. “Was it anything serious?”

“_I did say **emergency**, didn’t I?_” There’s no levity in her voice and it makes Castiel want to sink through the floor.

“I see.” He clears his throat and rubs a hand over his forehead. “Are you finished work now?”

“_Almost_.” Aunt Amara huffs, still sounding a little displeased with him. _“I’m just waiting for them to wake up from the anesthetic_.”

Castiel winces. “Oh, okay.” Maybe it would be best if he cuts this call off now before she can really get into the swing of a disapproving lecture. “You – um – you have fun tonight.”

He’s met with silence at first, but then Aunt Amara sighs again. Thankfully, her voice is lighter when she speaks again. “_You too, sweetie._” She makes kissy noises again. “_I’ll call you guys again around midnight. Okay, kiddo?_”

“Okay.”

After their goodbyes, Castiel hangs up and leans back in his chair. His cell phone is on the desk in front of him and he stares at it, fingers drumming against the keyboard but not actually touching the keys. What Aunt Amara said really struck a chord with him and – and now he’s _very_ uneasy.

The only thing holding him back with Dean is a poignant conversation. They haven’t actually broached the subject even once about how they would handle Dean being gone so often. And how in the world are they supposed to address his _insane_ paranoia that Dean might find someone else? They are close – _so close _– and they just – God, there’s been no time for them to _talk_.

With Sam, Anna, and Aunt Amara all staying here too, there hasn’t been a moment alone to sit down and really talk. Aside from Aunt Amara going in to work, or Anna occasionally popping off to go do a delivery, everyone has been here all day every day. The only time Castiel and Dean are truly alone is when they go to bed, too exhausted to do much else than kiss goodnight and go straight to sleep.

It doesn’t help that Castiel has also been working during their visit. While he’s working, Dean is keeping himself busy too. He cooks, cleans, and shovels snow. When everyone is together, he arranges snowball fights or a snowman building contest. They even tried to build an igloo.

The longer this talk is put off, the worse Castiel feels. He wants to talk to Dean soon and – And there’s no time like the present.

No more excuses.

Castiel takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands and the keyboard. He pushes away from the desk and stands up, determined.

“Dean?” He steps out into the hallway.

“Yeah?” Dean answers from the living room, sounding distracted.

This is it. Now or never.

“Can you come here, please?” Castiel shifts his weight and takes another deep breath to fight against his climbing anxiety. “I – _We_ need to talk.”

The living room goes very, _very_ quiet – only the sound of the video game’s pause menu echoing down the hall. It’s a few minutes of tense silence before Dean comes into view. He approaches Castiel with an almost nervous air around him; actually fidgeting with the sleeve of his flannel. The sound of the TV gets turned up almost in sync with every step he takes, and Castiel appreciates that Anna and Sam are giving them some privacy in the best way that they can. Hopefully they won’t eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Uh –” Dean stops in front of him and actually swallows nervously. “Is – uh – everything okay, Cas?”

It’s hard to say.

Castiel tilts his head at their bedroom and turns away. Dean follows him without question and shuts the door behind them. He stays standing at the door, shifting nervously on his feet as Castiel takes a seat on the edge of the bed. It’s such a juxtaposition to how they usually are. Even though there’s a pit of anxiety sitting high in his stomach, Castiel isn’t fidgeting. Not like _Dean_, at least.

Met with silence, Dean licks his lips and glances around the room. He eventually lands on Castiel again, because there’s really nothing else of interest in here. “What’s up?”

It takes a while for him to figure out the first question he wants to ask. Once decided, he looks up at Dean and tries to keep his voice even. “Are we in a relationship?”

Dean doesn’t even look _surprised_. “Sorta, yeah?” He shifts in place; distinctly uncomfortable. “I guess we’re kinda a casual thing? The whole ‘_make it official_’ thing is so high school, but yeah.” He ends with a noncommittal shrug.

That both is and _isn’t_ the answer Castiel was hoping for. He purses his lips and looks down at his hands again. “But we’re not _dating_, are we?”

Although, if he were to scroll back through his text messages with Sam, there’s definitely at least one message where he said that Castiel is the most difficult person Dean has ever dated. That means even _Sam_ thinks that they’re dating.

“We are a little bit.” Dean comes to sit next to him on the bed, though he leans back on his hands in an effort to look relaxed. “Just because we don’t go out together to restaurants, or go to the theater, or even take a walk in the park, doesn’t mean anything. Our movie nights could be considered dates, I guess. We’re just –”

He stops and drops his head back to look at the ceiling with a sigh. “We’re just casual dating because we’re not official. Which, by the way, we _really_ need to figure out another way to say that. I hate sounding like I’m fifteen again.”

“Oh.”

That’s the only thing Castiel can think to say because he’s – he’s a little confused. When did they get to this point? He wasn’t _ready_, and yet they still seem to have fallen into a relationship whether he wanted it or not.

He glances at Dean, frowning slightly. “When did you figure this out?”

Dean shrugs and rolls his head to the side to look at him. “From the beginning? I mean, we _are_ kinda exclusive, right?” He sits up again so he can rub a nervous hand over the back of his head. “You don’t have a side piece anywhere, do you?”

“Of course not.” Castiel wrinkles his nose at the idea of being with _anyone _the way he is with Dean. But this is his fear, isn’t it? He narrows his eyes when he looks at Dean again. “Do _you_?”

“Nope.” Dean pops the ‘p’ obnoxiously and shakes his head. “It’s been a long time since I’ve even _looked_ at someone else.”

Something a little too close to _jealousy_ burns in Castiel’s chest and he has to look away, worried it might show on his face. “How long?”

“Since…?”

The question feels like acid on his tongue, but Castiel _has _to know. And he hates that he feels like this at all. “Since you were with someone else?”

“March.” Dean answers without hesitation as he kicks his legs out and flops back on the bed. “After our second visit. Just had some _needs_ that needed to be met.”

Castiel does some quick mental math. March was nine months ago. And that – that is _shocking_. In all the time that they’ve known one another, he’s come to learn that Dean is a fairly sexual creature. If it’s not Sam ranting at length about all the times he’s had to spend _hours _sitting in the Impala or going for a walk because he’s come back to find the motel room occupied, then it’s stories from Dean himself. He’s been told time and time again that Dean has flirted with anything with two legs.

And yet… He’s gone _nine months_ without anyone?

His silence must be telling, because Dean’s hand finds the small of his back. “That was the last time because it was after that when I realized I didn’t want anyone else.” Castiel looks back at him and Dean smiles; soft and sweet and everything Castiel loves about him. “They weren’t _you_, Cas.”

He feels like an idiot.

Here Castiel was, being worried that someone might catch Dean’s eye during his travels, and he’s had his full attention for nine months now. And he feels like he knows Dean well enough to know that he wouldn’t cheat once they’re quote-unquote ‘_official_’.

It’s like a _weight_ rises from his shoulders.

“Oh.” He breathes out slowly, taking in the full reality that Dean has wanted him and only him for _at least_ nine months. It makes his wings shuffle against his back. “_Oh_.”

Dean tracks the movement of his wings and he brings a hand up to card his fingers through the feathers. The touch is gentle; so soft that it’s almost in reverence because Dean _treasures_ him. He’s always treated Castiel _so well_ and – and Castiel has been so. Damn. Stupid.

Holy _shit_, he’s been _so stupid_.

He can’t move fast enough; turning and throwing a leg over Dean to kneel in his lap again. Castiel grabs the front of Dean’s shirt and drags him upright again, just far enough to cup a hand around the back of his neck and _kiss him_. Dean takes a moment to react before he’s scooting back enough on the bed to give more room for Castiel to sit on his knees. His arms loop around his waist to hold him in place.

“Okay.” Castiel murmurs between the kisses he presses to Dean’s lips. “_Okay_.”

“Okay?” Dean hums in question as he tilts his head for a better angle.

Castiel pulls back, but not far as he rests their foreheads together. “Okay. I’m ready.”

A wide grin, bright and so _happy_, spreads across Dean’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods; the smile is contagious. “Not – not for _everything_. That – _that_ – might take me some time. But official? Yeah, I can do _official_.”

Dean laughs, bubbly and beautiful. He tightens his arms around Castiel’s waist and flops backwards again, dragging him down with him. The laughter gets muffled as he nuzzles his face into Castiel’s throat and holds him tightly. Castiel can’t help laughing too as he braces himself on his elbows by Dean’s head.

“Are you okay?”

“Fuckin’ _dandy_.” Dean breathes out against his skin. “I just – just need a minute.”

He stifles a giggle of his own. “Dean.” He pushes up, trying to get a little bit of distance between them so he can see his face again. “That’s a minute where we could be kissing.”

Almost immediately, Dean drops his head back with another laugh, smiling so big that there are crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Castiel is blown away by it. He’s never seen Dean look _this_ happy before – and it’s because of _him_. That’s almost an overwhelming thing to realize. He grossly underestimated Dean’s feelings for him and it makes his chest go feel tight – though not in a bad way. It warms him right to the tips of his feathers.

With a smile of his own, Castiel drops his head to kiss that smile. He wants to taste it, sink into it, _wrap himself in it forever_.

* * *

When they finally come out of the bedroom, nearly an hour has gone by. Dean’s grip on his hand is tight and he’s _still_ all smiles. Castiel finds it impossible not to match it. They made an effort to smooth out their hair and clothes, doing their best to ensure they don’t look _too_ ruffled. Or that they spent the majority of the past hour kissing and cuddling.

The last thing they need is for their good mood to be popped by some unnecessary teasing.

Castiel feels like he’s walking on air and he has no desire to return to work. His editing can wait for another day, he’s sure, and no new recordings have been sent in today for him to transcribe. As such, he bypasses his office entirely – not giving it a second thought as they make their way down the hall together, hand in hand.

Dean squeezes his hand tightly as they reach the living room. He _still_ hasn’t stopped smiling. Even Castiel is smiling brightly as they get to the living room. Anna and Sam are still playing video games, but now it’s _Mario Kart_. They pause the game and look at them in unison. It’s a long moment where Anna and Sam take in their held hands; the dreamy look in Dean’s eyes; how _happy_ they look. Finally, Anna meets Castiel’s eyes and raises an eyebrow.

He shrugs and nods, confirming what she’s asking.

“_Finally_.” Anna laughs and turns to high-five with Sam.

“Congratulations, you two.” Sam slings an arm around Anna’s shoulders and jiggles her in place. “I think we should order in as celebration.”

Anna shoves his arm away. “On New Year’s Eve? Do you even _know_ how busy every restaurant is going to be?”

“And no one really delivers out this way.” Castiel shakes his head and gestures back towards the fully stocked kitchen. “We have plenty of food.”

“I’ll get started on dinner!” Dean kisses Castiel on the cheek as he lets go of his hand, and heads to the kitchen with a jaunty pep in his step.

Castiel points at Anna and Sam as soon as Dean is out of the room. “Do _not_ make a big deal of this.”

“We would never. We’re just really happy for you two.” Sam smiles as he starts the game up again, promptly making Anna’s _Yoshi_ drive right off the edge of a cliff.

“How _dare_ you!” Anna screeches, scrambling to try and put him in a headlock and make _him_ screw up too. Though Sam is twice her size and largely unencumbered by her attempts to climb him like a tree.

Since he has no desire to try and get in the middle of this nonsense, Castiel decides that he’d rather spend his time with Dean. He can help cook, perhaps steal a few kisses, and while away the hours until midnight with his – oh, the thought makes him shiver in the good way – with his _boyfriend_.

* * *

New Year’s Eve, surprisingly, comes a _lot _quieter than when it’s just Anna, Aunt Amara, and Castiel. With the addition of the Winchesters, he was positive that things would be even louder. But instead of drinking in excess and dancing to loud music, they spend the evening drinking in excess and playing board games. Except something is wrong with the board games because they’re rigged and no one can seem to win. Not even Dean, who is stone cold sober.

It’s in the midst of an endless game of _Trouble_ when Anna gets a text message. She glances at her phone and gasps loudly. “_Guys_. It’s almost midnight!”

They all check their respective watches or phone at the announcement. Sure enough, they’re only a few minutes away and there’s still so much to do. Without any discussion, they all stand up simultaneously. Castiel is the first to reach the remote for the television. He skims the channels until he finds the one with the countdown happening in New York – actually clicking past it and having to go back a few channels while he sways in place.

Anna turns down their music while Dean scrambles to make sure that everyone is wearing their party hats. Sam passes out the party poppers and noise makers, and only drops them once in the process. By the time they’re all ready, the countdown has begun. Together, they join the countdown.

“Five… Four… Three… Two… One! _Happy New Year_!”

They pull the poppers and swing the clicking noise makers amidst their laughter. Anna surprises them all by stepping up on the coffee table to give Sam a smacking kiss to the cheek. He pulls away from her, bright red and sputtering. Dean laughs loudly at it all and the sound of it goes right to Castiel’s head. It makes him feel _bold_, which is never a good thing when he’s drunk.

Castiel hooks an arm around Dean’s waist and the other around his shoulder. He swings him into a dip, supporting him quite easily. Dean looks startled, gaping up at him and clutching at his arms as if he expects to be dropped. A moment later, he’s laughing again and it’s more intoxicating than every drop of alcohol Castiel has consumed tonight. He swoops down to kiss Dean soundly on the mouth, his wings spreading in the aptly named ‘_wing boner_’.

Though his wings are supposed to give him balance, they actually end up throwing him off while he’s bent over like this, and _especially _with Dean’s weight in his arms. They tumble to the floor in the space between the coffee table and couch, shoving them apart as they forcibly make space for themselves. Anna teleports to a safe space on the arm chair, giggling wildly at the ungainly pile they’ve become.

They laugh and push at each other, trying to untangle from one another. Castiel feels light headed and a little embarrassed. Mostly, he’s just _really happy_. Like, really, stupidly happy. God, he should have talked to Dean a _long_ time ago if this is how it makes him feel now.

Dean, still chuckling to himself, draws Castiel closer after they pull apart. He drops a lingering kiss on his lips. “Happy New Year, Cas.”

“Happy New Year.” Castiel murmurs back, letting his weight settle more comfortably into him. “_Dean_.”

“No, no! None of that!” Sam nudges them both with his foot, trying to wedge it between them. “C’mon, you guys. We have toasts to make!”

With great difficulty, Castiel pulls away to sit next to Dean on the floor. Both their drinks are… spilled on the coffee table, but they pick them up anyways. There’s still beer in the bottles and they raise them with Anna and Sam.

“Here’s to the past year.” Anna starts, standing upright on the arm chair because apparently New Year’s Eve is an excuse to stand on furniture now. “To the friends and family that got us through it.” She looks pointedly at Castiel as she continues. “And to the progress and growth that we’ve made.”

Sam raises his beer bottle and steps over to click it together with hers. “May all our troubles in the coming year be as short as our resolutions!”

Dean laughs and slings an arm around Castiel’s shoulder. “As if we even make them.”

“I’m going to make one.” He clinks his beer with Dean’s bottle and then drains the last of it.

Everyone is looking at him when he lowers the bottle and puts it aside. They all have their eyebrows raised, clearly curious. Castiel shrugs and readjusts how he’s sitting so he’s leaning more into Dean than he is the couch. “I resolve to be more confident and take more chances. To not let my anxieties control me as much as they have before.”

“Aw.” Dean leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Those are good resolutions, babe.”

Castiel wrinkles in his nose and frowns. “Rule number one of our relationship: no pet names.”

That only makes Dean grin wider. “You're shit outta luck there, huggybear. I am _chock full_ of pet names.”

He taps Castiel on the end of the nose, making him laugh as he swats his hand away. “Well, don’t expect any from _me_.”

“Disappointing.” Dean sighs and his bottom lip sticks out in a pout that can’t quite hold through his smile. “I would’ve killed to have you call me _sweetheart_ just once.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Castiel kisses him again to bring that smile fully to the surface. “There. That’s your _once_. Satisfied?”

The ensuing silence is quickly shattered with loud laughter from all around. Castiel grins into Dean’s shoulder, pleased. Pet names are an unknown to him. He’ll have to feel out whether he likes them or not as they go, but that’s something he’s looking forward to figuring out with Dean.

Thus far, this is an _excellent_ start to what he’s sure will be an excellent year.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Wednesday – January 2nd, 2019_ **

Castiel is in the midst of enjoying a soup and sandwich that he prepared himself, which is a rare occasion indeed – especially when the Winchesters are visiting. He even went ahead and made a sandwich for Sam to eat with his soup. There was no point in making one for Dean right now because he won’t be back while it’s still fresh.

Dean is away shopping in town (alone, for a change) and Castiel has work to do. This just happens to be a lunch break before he returns to transcribing recordings. Since Sam has been holed up in his bedroom all day, he hadn’t expected to have company for lunch. As such, it’s a pleasant surprise that Sam sits down opposite him at the table instead of taking it back to his bedroom with him.

Barely a moment of silence passes before Sam clears his throat. “I think I have a New Year’s resolution.”

“Oh?” He looks up at Sam, eyebrow raised.

There had been no further mentions of resolutions since they welcomed the new year. Even Aunt Amara had nothing on the topic when she came back, and no one spoke of it again between then and when her and Anna left to go back home this morning. Castiel doesn’t expect to see either of them again until at least the weekend. Everyone needs a bit of space after nearly two weeks together.

Sam shifts in his seat, staring down at his food. He looks away from it, then back again, then to Castiel, and back for a third time. He clears his throat again. “You were home schooled, right?”

“After I presented, yes.” Castiel takes a bite of his sandwich; chews and swallows. “I missed my friends, I hated my wings, and I hated not being allowed to do _anything_ anymore. My parents tried to make it easier for me to have physical education classes in the backyard, by challenging me intellectually, and they did their best to make lessons fun. But it didn’t make up for everything else I lost.”

“Oh.” Sam shifts again, wincing minutely. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to –”

Castiel waves his free hand to brush the apology out of the air. “It’s in the past, Sam. I’m much happier now.” He smiles and tries to give off a feeling of contentment – just in case Sam’s empathy is open and receiving right now. “So, tell me. What’s your resolution?”

But still Sam evades the question. “When you did your college courses – They were online, right?”

“Yes.” Ah, he’s beginning to see where this is going.

“What were they like?”

Castiel takes another bite to mull the question over for a moment. “I enjoyed that I had the freedom to do them as I pleased. Each of my courses were three months in length and I was given all my assignments at the beginning. I could complete them on my own time and it was mostly reading from the textbooks they shipped me, answering questions, or completely activities. Very few of my courses had actual essays or group assignments. It was nice.”

Sam nods and finally picks up his sandwich to take a bite. He goes through three bites and a few spoonfuls of soup before Castiel breaks the poignant silence between them. “Is there a particular course you’re interested in taking?”

The question has Sam going very still in his seat. He puts his sandwich down and licks his lips; a distinct air of guilt around him. “I guess I was kinda obvious about it, huh?”

“Just a little.” Castiel graces him with a smile, hoping to ease his nerves.

“I’ve just been…” Sam shrugs and fidgets with his spoon. “Just been thinking, I guess. About things.”

Castiel tilts his head to regard him, quickly going through everything he knows about Sam and his history. There are greater gaps in it than the knowledge he has of Dean, but that’s par for the course. Dean _is_ his boyfriend, after all.

Eventually, he settles on the biggest point of interest. “I think you liked hunting.”

“I _do_. But I also really like –” At this, Sam gestures around him, apparently trying to encompass the whole house. “I like being here. The routine of it. The _stability_. I like knowing that I’ll be waking up in the same bed instead of another hotel room where I’ll be driving off to another state soon. Another hunt, another bounty. It’s just – I don’t think it’s for me anymore.”

Sam slumps in his chair, the rest of his lunch forgotten. “I’m not like Dean. He loves the open road and new adventures. I’m –” He lets the sentence hang for a while before shrugging.

“I understand.” Castiel finishes off his sandwich and puts his near empty bowl on the plate. “You shouldn’t be expected to live according to Dean’s life.”

“Yeah, but he’d _kill_ me if I ever mentioned this to him.”

That doesn’t sound like the Dean that Castiel knows. The Dean he knows worships his little brother and adores him more than anyone else in the universe. “I highly doubt that.”

Sam shakes his head and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “He would. And it’s all because of _Dad_.” His expression screws up into something painful for a moment. “Dean really wants to find him and – and sometimes we fight about it.”

Castiel frowns and shuffles closer on his chair, despite the table between them. “Do you not want to?”

“Not really.” Sam crosses his arms and rubs one of them in an absent motion. “I mean – He left because of _me_, didn’t he?”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I _felt it_.” He’s looking increasingly more upset and Castiel is eternally grateful that Dean isn’t here to yell at him for thinking these things again. “I was still learning how to control my empathy, but I could _feel _ how he changed. After I presented, I could tell that he didn’t love me as much anymore. I knew he was _afraid_ of me.”

“Sam –”

“Sorry.” Sam shakes his head sharply and goes to push away from the table. “I shouldn’t – You don’t need to hear me talk about this shit.”

“Sam.” Castiel quickly stands up and goes around the table to put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him in his chair. “I’m your friend. You can talk to me about anything.” He squeezes his shoulder. “I promise that I won’t tell Dean.”

The look he receives in response is grateful at worst – nearly radiant at best. “Thank you.” His smile turns shaky and he looks away again. “It’s weird, thinking about changing – y’know – _everything_.”

“Are you just _thinking_ about it?” Castiel pulls out the chair next to him and sits down. “Or do you actually _want_ to do it?”

“I… I don’t know?”

Hm. That won’t do. Castiel looks across the table at his abandoned soup, too wrapped up in his thoughts to even notice it. “Well, why don’t you tell me what you’re interested in?”

It takes a few minutes for Sam to put his thoughts into words and actually give a good answer. During that time, he manages to polish off the last of his sandwich. “I’m not sure, honestly. I was kinda thinking about trying to do something to help with mutant rights.” He shrugs. “I mean, it’s a fairly personal topic for me. We’re both unregistered and I’ve seen how Dean gets treated sometimes. It’s not fair and I want it to be easier for us – for _him_.”

When he looks up to meet Castiel’s eyes again, there’s a fire burning in them. “I’d like a world where we don’t have to hide who we are just to make life a little easier for us.”

Castiel finds his hand and squeezes it. “That’s a good dream to have.”

Though he smiles on the outside, he’s trying very hard on the inside _not_ to project or feel any negative emotions that might discourage Sam from his dreams. It might be easier on him to pick something else, but Castiel would never say that out loud. There have been people fighting for mutant rights since the first discovery of the mutant gene, and that’s not going to change any time soon, even with more and more mutants presenting every year.

The news is always trying to cast it in a bad light – that mutants are _spreading_. Some even theorize that it’s an infection and soon the whole world is going to have it if something isn’t done. Castiel firmly believes that humanity is evolving and that those born without abilities are scared.

It will be decades, or possibly even stretching into a century, before any positive change will happen. And that won’t happen until mutants fully outnumber the non-mutants and can take any kind of position of power in the government. Who even knows where the world will be then? Or if they’ll even make it there.

No one speaks of it in public, but Castiel has frequented the internet enough to know that in the dark corners of it there’s talk. Non-mutants whisper about how the only way they’ll be safe from a mutant uprising is another Holocaust – a _culling_. It doesn’t help that those who run for various offices, or take seats in parliament, run their campaigns on the backs of such shadowed promises of keeping mutants _in check_. That’s what _The Registry_ was designed for – what _The Facility_ does. And it’s _terrifying_.

Castiel does his best not to pay attention to it. He’s long since learned to stay away from those message boards and to turn off the news when they start playing anything of the sort. It’s best for his own mental health – and to keep his anxiety at a minimum in his own home.

Sam sighs and deflates slightly. “It’s just an idea.”

Hopefully he didn’t feel any of Castiel’s indecision on the topic. “It’s not _just_ an idea, Sam. It’s a dream. One big enough for you to consider it a resolution.” He pauses and tilts his head, trying to catch Sam’s eye. “Is your resolution to take online courses?”

“Kinda?” He flicks at his spoon in an almost sulking manner. “I figured those would be easiest to do since I can’t really go to classes in person. Especially if I can’t convince Dean to settle down.” Sam turns a little smile on him. “Although… _you_ might have more sway in that department than I do.”

Castiel frowns and punches him lightly in the shoulder. “I’m not putting out just to make him give up hunting.”

Immediately, Sam’s face crinkles in a grimace of disgust. “Ew! God, no. That’s not – Why would you even – I’m having _lunch_, Cas!” He gestures at his cold bowl of soup.

Smug in knowing that he’s won, Castiel stands up to collect his forgotten dishes. “_You_ brought it up.”

“I definitely _did not_.”

“Agree to disagree.”

Sam grumbles, but tucks into his soup – likely to avoid any further discussion on that particular topic. Even though it’s cold, he consumes it with a fervor that he did not have when he sat down. His posture is certainly less rigid and uncomfortable.

Perhaps having someone in his corner is making it easier on him to accept his new decisions. Castiel does think it’s nice that he wants to go to school, though he has his concerns about the career path in question. Either way, he’s all in favour of higher education – and especially if that’s something that Sam wants. He’s a smart boy and it’s being wasted on hunting. Castiel is continually impressed with how much of his personal library Sam has powered through since they met.

Well, whatever the case may be, he’ll be here for him.

* * *

** _Monday – January 14th, 2019_ **

“I can’t believe you’re going. _Again_.”

Castiel sighs and zips the suitcase closed. “Why is that so difficult to believe?” He straightens up to check that the sprayed ink on his side is dry enough to put his shirt back on. “It’s more or less a habit for me to go with them now.”

Anna blows a strand of hair out of her face, eyeing him from her place on his bed. She’s lying on her stomach with her feet kicking in the air, her chin resting in her hands. She rolls her eyes at him. “Because last time was a _disaster_, duh.”

He’s a bit insulted by that, but chooses not to show it. “It was not.”

“It kinda was.” Anna has that snide tone that he absolutely _hates_.

As such, Castiel feels justified in throwing his sweater over her head instead of putting it on. The ink needs another few minutes and there are other things he could be doing. “The last trip I took was at the end of _September_. I think I’m justified in going on a trip now, don’t you think?”

Anna pulls the sweater away, her hair mussed up by it. “I guess. Just as long as you don’t try and help them on a hunt, right?”

He turns his nose up at her and goes about closing his dresser drawers and closet “I’m sure I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about.”

“Actually, she’s right.” Dean chooses then to announce his presence at the door. There’s a very light dusting of snow in his hair and on his shoulders; melting away the longer Castiel looks at him. His cheeks are rosy from the cold outside. “I’m not going to take you on another hunt.”

“Fine.” Castiel frowns at him and heads into the bathroom to check to make sure that he grabbed everything he needs.

Dean calls after him; “And we _are_ going to run the course again when we get to Bobby’s.”

“The course is _outside_, Dean.” He steps out of the bathroom to add a glare as emphasis. “In _South Dakota_. In _winter_!”

“That’s why it’s outdoors.” Dean shrugs and crosses to the bed to pick up the two suitcases resting on the mattress in front of Anna. “It’s so you can learn how weather affects the terrain and the area around you. Keeps you on your toes.” He brings the luggage to the door and pauses. “Don’t glare at me like that, Cas. We clean it off and de-ice the more dangerous parts so you don’t break a leg. It’s perfectly safe to run and we’ll stop and get you some proper boots for it on the way.”

Ugh. That means _shopping_. Castiel rolls his eyes and shoos him off. “Go. I just need to get my shirt on and then we can leave.”

Dean nods and turns to the other room. “You heard him, Sam.”

“Sure did.”

With Anna’s help, Castiel gets into his sweater in record time. He didn’t _need_ the assistance, but it’s appreciated nonetheless. Sometimes it can be difficult to blindly get the zipper together in the small of his back.

“Are you going to try flying again?” She gives the zipper a good hard tug to make sure it’s all the way up by the base of his wings.

Now there’s a question that he’s been avoiding since the Winchesters came back. No one has broached it and he’s very carefully steered conversations away from anything that might lead to being asked about it. Trust Anna to come in and ruin that all for him at the midnight hour.

“My feathers aren’t long enough.” He keeps his voice quiet, in case Sam might hear, and spreads his wings to prove his point. They’re still fairly short despite not having clipped them lately. “The best that I _might_ get is some short distance gliding.”

Sam, apparently having finished with making the bed in the other room, appears in the hallway with a wry grin twisting his lips. “And Dean plans to make you practice that when we get here.”

Castiel grimaces and his wings droop. _Dammit_. He was hoping that wouldn’t be the case given that it’s winter out. It’s _cold_. You’re not supposed to spend time outside during this time of the year.

Despite likely being able to feel his irritation, Sam just smiles at him. “Dean wants you to work your wing muscles more. You might move them around occasionally, but you’ve never flown with them. Which means the muscles probably aren’t developed enough. Even something like gliding might strain you a lot, so you’re going to have to –”

“I don’t want to know.” Castiel shakes his head. “It’ll just make me not want to go.”

“Oh, but _I_ want to know.” Anna raises her arm in the air as if she were a student in class; waving it excitedly. “Please tell me!”

Castiel shoves Anna onto the bed and starts towards the door. “Don’t tell her.”

“We made up a work out plan for Cas.” Sam talks over him, even stepping aside so he’s not blocking Castiel’s way. “It’s going to involve a _lot_ of push ups to work some of the muscle groups that your wings are associated to.”

Oh _no_.

With a quiet swear muttered under his breath, Castiel brushes past him to head down the hall. It’s not enough to make him change his mind, but he’s definitely not looking forward to _Sioux Falls_ as much as he was before.

Grumbling mostly to himself, and ignoring Anna and Sam entirely, he deviates into the kitchen to check that they’ve got everything they had packed in there. It looks like Dean has already taken the cooler and the bags of snacks. The Impala must be full, and that means it’s time for them to go.

There’s nothing to delay him any longer and Castiel heads down into the foyer to pull on his coat and boots. He has a hat, scarf, and mittens too, because he knows the car is going to be cold. Dean doesn’t believe in letting it warm up because that’s a _waste of gas_. The block heater keeps everything else running well enough for him and he can do maintenance on her as much as he needs.

Goodbyes with Anna are quick, so as not to let the cold in, and Castiel kisses her on the cheek before heading out. He’ll text her a reminder to keep his plants alive and heads outside in the thinly falling snow with Sam right behind him.

They find Dean just closing the trunk of the car. “You know, it’s harder to fit everything because you insist on using suitcases, Cas. We’re going to get you a duffle bag.”

“I don’t want a duffle bag.” Castiel huffs, a little insulted that his suitcases are being disparaged. “I don’t travel enough to need anything other than what I have.”

At that, he goes to open the door to the backseat only to have Sam stop him. Castiel raises an eyebrow as he glances at him. “I’m not getting front seat privileges because I’m dating Dean now, am I?”

“Yeah, you definitely are.” Sam nods, not even trying to be subtle about it.

“Alright then.” Castiel turns on his heel to go around the car to the passenger side. “I’ll take full advantage of that, thank you.” He pauses only once to wave to Anna where she stands in the living room window before getting into the car. The leather seat is like _ice_ under him and he hisses his displeasure.

Dean and Sam take a moment to wave and blow kisses to Anna before they get in too. As soon as Dean starts the Impala, he turns the heat up. Castiel is shivering in place; arms wrapped around himself to try and conserve some kind of body heat before it’s sapped away by the leather seats.

“Sorry, babe.” Dean pats him on the knee. “It’ll warm up quickly.”

That stupid nickname (which Castiel can’t decide if he loves or hates it) makes him flush and huff all at once. “Not quick enough.”

With one last squeeze to his knee, Dean turns his focus to backing the car out of the parking space in front of the garage. Castiel eyes the door and wonders if the Impala would be warmer when he got in if they parked it in there instead. At the moment, the space inside is storing most of Anna and Aunt Amara’s things that they don’t have space for at the apartment. The building doesn’t really come with much spare storage for them to use, so the garage is mostly furniture they didn’t want to part with and various boxes of God-knows-what.

The blame is not entirely on them. Some of the space is taken up with things that Castiel really probably should get rid of. There’s an old trampoline that he hasn’t used in over a decade that he could sell or trash. Moving that out would certainly clear up some space. And when will Aunt Amara use that furniture again? It’s been in there for _years_. Anything they haven’t needed by now could probably be thrown away or donated.

Once the garage is empty, Dean would be free to park in there. It’s a great idea and Castiel makes a mental note to make that his next home project. Though it will have to wait until he’s home again.

* * *

The first person they see when they get to _Sioux Falls_ is Pam. She’s waiting for them on the steps of their apartment when they come out of the garage, bags in hand to take upstairs. Her fists are on her hips and there’s a storm in her eyes. Castiel is almost afraid, until she pulls both him and Dean into a painfully tight hug.

“I am _so happy_ for you guys!”

Sam squeezes by them. “I didn’t tell her.” He takes the stairs two at a time to put space between them, the bastard.

“No one did!” Pam lets them go only to grab Dean by the ear and _pull_. He hisses and ends up nearly doubled over in front of her. “I cannot _believe_ that you didn’t text or call us about this. After the _months_ where we had to put up with you whining and moping all over the place; drinking us under the table while you drown your frustrations. All that and we don’t even deserve a _phone call_?”

Castiel steps back, hoping to save himself Dean’s fate. He glances between the two of them, a bit surprised. “Whining and moping?” Sam did mention that Dean had been a bit frustrated with the progression of their relationship, but this is new information to him.

Dean blushes and struggles to untangle himself from Pam. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just being dramatic. I totally wasn’t pining after you like a lovesick idiot or anything.”

“Oh, sure, definitely not.” She lets go only to cross her arms and stare them down. “You boys drop your shit here and come over _immediately_. We’re going to fucking celebrate.”

“Jesus, Pam.” Dean rubs his ear and pouts at her. “You don’t need to –”

“We. Are. Celebrating.” With that said, she turns on her heel and stomps through the snow towards Bobby’s back door.

Dean stares after her for a moment before cupping his hands around his mouth. “You just want an excuse to drink!”

“Damn right I do!” She calls back before slamming the door behind her.

There’s a distinctly embarrassed flush to Dean’s skin as he starts up the stairs. He’s muttering to himself about how mortifying Pam is and how he can’t believe she just did that in front of Castiel. Since he’s right behind him on the stairs, Castiel hears every word of it and he can’t help but wonder if Dean thinks he’s being quiet about it.

Once they’re inside the apartment and out of the cold, he decides it’s a good time to voice his opinion on the matter. “I think it’s nice.”

“What is?” Dean glances at him over his shoulder as he takes off his outer wear.

“That you have people who care for you so much that they’re invested in your life and the things that make you happy.” And it takes the end of that sentence to make Castiel realize the irony in the words. He’s given Anna a hard time for being nosy and perhaps an apology is in order.

While Dean stares at him blankly, Castiel shrugs out of his coat to continue with his point. “I have no siblings, and Anna is younger than me, but I assume her reaction is not much different from that of an older sister.” He raises an eyebrow, challenging Dean to disagree with him. “You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t act the same if you were in her position and it was Sam who didn’t share some _big news_.”

Dean’s lips form a thin line and he huffs as he kicks his boots off. “Yeah, well, she’s the big sister I never wanted to have.” He stomps off to his bedroom with the bags in tow and not another word said.

Castiel and Sam share an amused look before following to put their own things away.

Whenever they finally make it over to Bobby’s for a supposed celebration, Castiel will have to take the chance to thank everyone for putting up with Dean during the last several months. It’s partially his fault that everyone had to deal with his moping in the first place. Though, truthfully, it feels weirdly good to know that Dean was pining for him for so long. It’s a _guilty_ kind of good, certainly.

* * *

** _Thursday – January 24th, 2019_ **

Castiel wakes up to something hard hitting him in the face. No, not just one something, but several small somethings. He groans and opens his eyes to find a number of coins littering his pillow. Where in the world –? Another drops, bouncing off his nose. When he looks up, there’s a few other pennies and such floating above his head.

There is not enough caffeine in the world to wake him up enough to explain why.

A quiet ‘_psst_’ from the door gets his attention and Castiel turns just enough to lift his head and squint at it. Sam has wedged himself through it just enough to open it a half-foot or so. The coins in the air zip back to him and he grabs them out of the air. His other hand raises to show a piece of paper with big bold lettering hand printed on it.

**MAKING BFAST  
KEEP D HERE**

Why…?

It takes far too long for the reason to click. Today is Dean’s birthday and Sam has a running tradition of making him breakfast in bed.

Castiel sighs and drops his head back onto the pillow. He waves a thumbs up at the door before turning back and cuddling back Dean’s heat. The best boyfriends are living furnaces and Castiel can never get enough of how warm he is. It’s _fantastic_. Especially in the winter.

He’s just starting to drift back to sleep when Dean stirs against him. Dammit. Apparently that’s not going to happen. Castiel sighs and tightens the arm he has around Dean’s waist, pulling him closer as he drops a kiss first to the skin on the back of his neck and then another to his cloth-covered shoulder.

Dean rumbles a happy groan and stretches out, arms pushing into the empty space on the other side of the bed. He finishes it off by squirming his way around until they’re facing one another. A sleepy smile splits across his face. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Must you?” Castiel’s nose wrinkles more at the endearment than the stale morning breath.

“It’s my birthday.” He shrugs and slips an arm over Castiel’s waist as he wiggles closer. “I think I’m allowed to call you whatever I want.”

Castiel huffs and lifts his leg to allow Dean to slot one between them. “Fine, but you had better get it out of your system today. No more pet names later, okay?”

A pout tugs Dean’s bottom lip out. “Killjoy.”

“It’s _weird_.” And it makes him _feel_ weird too. Half the things Dean calls him are things his _Aunt_ calls him and it’s… awkward.

Dean sighs and leans back, hands guiding Castiel down to snuggle against his chest. “That’s just because you’re not used to having someone be sweet to you.” He pets his hair, as if to comfort him. Annoyingly enough, it actually does feel nice. “Hey. Can I ask for my birthday gift now?”

Castiel frowns into his t-shirt and let’s go of the pet names thing. _For _now. He considers the implications of the question. Is he referring to the actual present hidden in his suitcase, or is it something… else? Better to assume the latter, just in case. “Dean, I’m not –”

“Not _that_.” Dean laughs and nuzzles his nose against the top of his head. He’s surprisingly physically affectionate when they’re alone. “I meant that I want to groom you.”

_Oh_. The request is unexpected, though it probably shouldn’t be. His wings twitch over the blanket as Dean slips his fingers into the downy feathers, pressing and massaging around the base of his wings and – thankfully – avoiding the place where his glands are located.

After contemplating it for a minute, he sighs and relaxes into Dean. “Fine. If that’s what you want to do.”

“_Yes_.” Dean grins and guides Castiel’s face up to kiss him soundly on the lips. “You’re the _best_.” He pushes him away to sit up and reach for his wings.

Immediately, Castiel rolls away and sits up to keep his wings out of reach. “No, not yet.”

“Why _not_?” His expression falls and his whole body droops with disappointment.

Castiel purses his lips and glances at the door. Sam didn’t specify if it was a surprise that he was making breakfast or not. Considering that he does it every year, one would assume that Dean would be expecting it. But that doesn’t mean that it should just be said outright, does it? Or should he come up with a different excuse?

Since he’s facing away from the door, the look to it is rather telling. Dean sighs and cocks his head to the side. “I can _smell_ breakfast, Cas. That’s not an excuse.”

“Yes, but he told me to keep you in here.”

“And here is where I am.” He looks confused for a moment. “Here is where I also plan to clean your wings. So what’s the hold up?”

“You can clean them _after_ breakfast.” Castiel grabs Dean’s wrists when he reaches for his wings again, pulling them down and out of the way. “You are _not_ going to eat with my oil on your fingers.” The idea of it makes his stomach turn. “And you can’t eat breakfast with _that_ –” He pauses to look pointedly at Dean’s lap. “– standing at attention.”

The corners of Dean’s mouth twitch as if he’s trying _very hard _not to smile. “Are you always going to refer to sex or my dick as ‘_that_’? Because he prefers to go by ‘_lil big man_’ and this whole situation is going to get really funny really soon.”

Castiel makes a face. He will never understand Dean’s need to name things. “I am perfectly capable of talking about sex and your _cock_, thank you very much.”

It’s only a heartbeat before a bright flush fills Dean’s face and spreads right down into the collar of his t-shirt. He pulls his hands free to cover his face with them. “Holy shit, I wasn’t prepared to hear you say that word.”

“It’s vulgar and I usually prefer something more eloquent.” Castiel shrugs and leans forward. “But I knew it would get that kind of reaction out of you.” He pulls one of Dean’s hands out of the way so he can kiss him on the cheek. “I told you; I like it when you blush.”

If anything, Dean blushes _harder_. “I’m the _birthday boy_, Cas! You’re not supposed to be teasing me!”

Castiel simply hums and knocks away his other hand, fingers fitting to the curve of Dean’s jaw so he can guide him into a proper kiss. With a sigh, Dean practically melts into him. He scoots closer on the bed until their knees are touching and finds Castiel’s thighs with his too-warm hands. One comes up to thumb the hinge of Castiel’s jaw; sweeping in a tender motion.

The kiss starts out soft; slow and sweet. It’s as close to perfection as one can get and Castiel can feel the lightning it causes all the way down to the tips of his feathers. He can’t help but shiver, humming against Dean’s lips because kissing him always makes Castiel feel _so good_.

He makes a low, soft sound in the back of his throat and it seems to flip a switch in Dean. Immediately he’s pressing forward, leaning into him more as the grip on Castiel’s thigh tightens. A tongue traces across Castiel’s bottom lip and how can he _not_ open to it? Especially when Dean groans quietly into his mouth and it sounds _amazing_.

It is a bit weird to kiss while sitting up. Castiel rather preferred it when they kiss while lying down – like how they did on Christmas morning, but maybe without the panic attack. Yeah, that would be a good idea. Why in the world are they still sitting up?

Before he can even start to guide them down, Dean leans out of the kiss and squeezes his thigh. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “Should we – uh – should we have the birds and the bees talk?”

The –? Oh Jesus. Castiel sighs and rolls his eyes. “Dean. I’m in my _thirties_. I’ve already had that talk.” A _long_ time ago, in fact.

Still, Dean doesn’t back down from the topic. He actually looks surprisingly serious. “I know, but I meant about _us_. You said you weren’t ready for sex yet, but I thought we might at least, y’know, _talk_ about it.”

“Sam led me to believe that _talking_ isn’t your forte.”

“It’s not.” Dean shrugs and shifts in place. “I kinda hate emotional talks, but –” He looks at Castiel almost _shyly_. “But, for you, I’ll make the effort.”

“You’re a _sap_.” Castiel smiles and meets him for a quick kiss. “Fine. What would you like to talk about?”

After a few beats of silence, Dean shrugs again. “I don’t know.” He spreads his hands in a useless gesture. “I guess we could talk about stuff like – uh – Do you have a preference for topping? Bottoming? I’m good with either, but if you’re not comfortable with bottoming like a lot of guys are, then I totally understand and I won’t push for it.”

Oh.

Hm.

Honestly, Castiel hadn’t thought that far ahead. He’s been actively _not_ thinking about in a desperate effort to not spiral into a panic attack. It’s a fair question and, now that he considers it properly, he doesn’t have much of an opinion on it.

Before Dean, Castiel always figured that he would be fine with it. He’s certainly okay with thinking about it in his fantasies – though he’s never actually _tried _it on himself. Maybe that’s something he should do on his own before they get more intimate together. It would somewhat suck if they were to try it only to discover that Castiel doesn’t like the feeling.

He frowns down at the bedding while he thinks about it.

Dean waits a few minutes and, when no answer is forthcoming, he takes one of Castiel’s hands in his and squeezes it lightly. “I know that you don’t have any – uh – _experience_ in this. I was your first kiss and everything, right?”

“Yes.” Castiel nods slowly, looking up at him from under his lashes. “You’re _all_ my firsts.”

“Happy birthday to me!” Dean grins; wide and bright. “I _love _that I get to teach you all the wonders of sex.” He leans in to kiss Castiel lightly on the lips. “Fucking _love_ that.”

For some insane reason, that makes Castiel blush. “You’re ridiculous.”

That only makes him smile wider. “Yeah, yeah. I know that whole ‘_virginity is just a social construct_’ argument and everything. I know caring about it is just bullshit, but…” He takes a deep breath and there’s _heat_ in his eyes when he looks at Castiel again. “Holy _shit_, I find it _so hot_ that I get to have all of your firsts.”

The next kiss he pulls Castiel into is _smoldering_ and has his wings fluttering. It’s the kind of kiss that definitely raises the body temperature a few notches.

When Dean pulls away, his voice is rough; deep and _wanting_. “I’m kinda selfish like that.”

All Castiel can do is stare at him; flushed and mouth slack.

Dean groans and rubs his thumb over Castiel’s bottom lip. “God, I wanna suck you off _so bad_ right now.”

Castiel’s eyelids flutter a moment and he takes a shuddering breath. His hands shake slightly as he reaches up to pull Dean’s hand away from his face and the other from his thigh. “I’m – I’m not _quite_ ready for that.” Thinking about it makes him want to squirm and ratchets up his anxiety another few levels to hum away just under his skin.

But _that _is definitely an image that he’s going to be thinking about during his next _private_ moment.

Either way, even if he _could_ do that, they shouldn’t. It’s Dean’s birthday and Sam is in the other room making breakfast for him. He could walk in at any moment and it’s mortifying to just _think_ about Sam walking in on them with their pants down.

“That’s okay.” Dean’s smile turns soft and he brings Castiel’s hands to his mouth, dusting kissing across his knuckles. “You just let me know when you’re ready. I’m totally okay with waiting.”

As grateful as he is for that, Castiel can’t help a teasing smile. “Is this more of your _nice_ persona that you only use with me?”

It has the desired result of making Dean laugh. “No, not really. I just think consent is sexy and I’m not going to push you into something you don’t want yet.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want it.”

Dean blinks several times, mouth open but not speaking.

Castiel smiles and now it’s his turn to kiss Dean’s hands. “It’s not that I don’t want it. I’m just not ready.” He turns his hands over so he can press kisses to Dean’s palms. “But I may be soon. It gets easier to be with you every passing day and I’m very thankful that you’re so understanding.”

“You –” Dean sucks in a sharp breath; voice tight. “You’re _killing_ me here.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. This is new information. “Do you have sensitive hands?”

Dean shakes his head. “N-not really? But you have a bit of an _effect_ on me.” He swallows thickly; Adam’s apple bobbing in the column of his throat. “You’d better – uh – give me a moment.”

Part of him wants to keep teasing, but Castiel knows that wouldn’t be fair. He lets go and watches as Dean rubs his hands over his face and up into his hair; taking a few deep breaths. Clearly he’s ready and wants more – _has_ wanted more for months longer than they’ve been together. Dean is a _saint_ for putting up with him and being so accepting of his anxiety.

They’ve been together for nearly a month now and they kiss several times a day. More notably when they wake up and go to bed. The kissing sessions in the privacy of their bedroom can get a – Well, the most appropriate word for it is _hot_. Oftentimes, Castiel has to break it off because his nerves reach critical mass and he very nearly starts panicking.

On the bright side, it’s taking longer and longer to reach that point. The process is slow going, but they’re definitely making progress in getting him used to it. One day he’ll be acclimatized enough that his anxiety won’t rear its ugly head and they’ll actually be able to _do _it.

It really is amazing that Dean, the sexually voracious being that he so claims to be, has never complained once about how… _slow_ they’re taking it. Castiel was under the impression that most adults don’t wait that long to have sex. Yet, here they are, nearly a month and they haven’t passed even kissing. And who even knows how long it will be before he’s able to handle his anxiety well enough for them to be naked together, let alone _touch_ one another.

Of course, Castiel isn’t blind. He is well aware that Dean often follows their morning kisses with a longer-than-usual shower – especially so when he wakes up with ‘_morning wood_’. Sometimes he even takes a shower before they go to bed. When he first took two in one day, Castiel had questioned it and the excuse was so there would be no ‘_happy accidents_’ during their bedtime kisses.

It was surprisingly considerate of him. Though it is fairly mind-boggling that he’s showering _daily_. The amount of times he disappears into the bathroom with a towel and takes longer than usual is just – Castiel has trouble believing it.

Granted, Dean isn’t the only one having alone time. Castiel’s libido has always been low, but there have been a few times over the last month where he’s had to deal with a certain situation. Since he bathes because of his wings, he tends to masturbate while the tub is filling. The sound of the faucet running is more than enough to muffle any sound that he might make.

There is a measure of guilt to it, though. The bathroom with the shower is _shared_. Sam must know what Dean is doing in there most mornings (or evenings). Castiel has trouble looking Sam (even Dean, sometimes) in the eye after he masturbates. He has _no _idea how Dean can strut out of the bathroom with little to no care that everyone knows what he was doing.

“You get yourself under control.” Castiel pats Dean on the knee before turning and sliding off the edge of the bed. “Since I’m not the one bound to the bedroom, I’m going to go use the bathroom.”

“Fine. Be that way.” Dean sniffs, pouting after him. “Be mean to the birthday boy on his _birthday_.”

Castiel blows him a kiss before ducking out into the hallway. He’s quick in the bathroom. When finished, he detours into the kitchen to check on the status of breakfast – purely out of curiosity’s sake, of course. Sam is in the process of pushing a massive amount of eggs around a pan.

“Hey, Cas. Dean up?”

“Yes.” He crouches to peek through the window in the oven door, checking on what looks like an entire package of bacon sizzling on trays. “Is he allowed to use the bathroom or am I really supposed to keep him trapped in the bedroom?”

Sam snorts and steps away from the stove as the toaster pops. “Sure, that’s fine. He might not have a chance, though. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“What are we having?”

“Eggs, bacon, and waffles.” He tilts his head towards the box of frozen _Eggos_ on the counter. “We ran out of pancake ingredients, so this is the best I can do today. You should go tell him now if he wants to use the bathroom first.”

Castiel nods and heads back to the bedroom. He steps into the room and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “You can go, but be quick and come straight back here. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Dean springs off the bed and kisses Castiel on the cheek as he passes by. Instead of going back to bed, though not to sleep, Castiel rolls his shoulders and stretches his arms above his head. With a sigh, he looks down at the open floor space at the end of the bed and frowns at it. Sam wasn’t lying when he said that Dean had developed a workout plan for him that would help strengthen his wings.

Apparently, it doesn’t matter that Castiel has no desire or plans to fly at any point in the near future. He’s still expected to do the workout every day no matter what. The Winchesters (or, more accurately, _Dean_) are determined to get him to fly and, for their sakes, Castiel hopes that he doesn’t have a fear of heights. He’s not overly fond of them, but he’s not _scared_, per se.

Luckily, it’ll be another few months before they can really put flying to the test. His feathers aren’t at _flying_ length at the moment and they won’t be until he goes through his spring molt. For now, all he would likely be able to manage is a short distance glide – long distance if he jumped from a high enough height, though that certainly won’t be happening any time soon.

Castiel has a sneaking suspicion that Dean has a calendar somewhere counting down the days until March and when his molt starts. There’s been no outwardly evidence, but it’s entirely possible given how obsessed Dean is with his wings.

Sighing again, louder this time, Castiel lowers himself to his knees and again onto his hands. The core of the work out is _a lot _of push ups, and he hates them. It took nearly an hour before either Winchester was satisfied with his form – and that was only after he managed to make them concede into letting him do the push ups on his knees. His abdominal muscles aren’t as good as they could be and his core strength somewhat sucks when it comes to the planking position.

As per Dean’s instruction, every time Castiel pushes up, his wings fold down. When he lowers down, his wings spread up and stretch as high as he can make them. It took a lot of concentration on those first few days to get into a kind of rhythm where he was able to do them like this without much thought. If he had a wider space, Dean would prefer that he flap his wings as if he were to fly, but they’re confined to the indoors thanks to the weather.

Castiel never thought he’d be thankful for the cold and snow.

He does twelve push ups for his first rep. They’re slow going, but he gets them done before resting on his stomach for a count of sixty seconds. Dean returns to the room just as he’s starting on the second round. He stops in the doorway and sucks in a breath.

“_Oh_.” Dean groans quietly. “Now _this_ is a treat.” He moves to sit on the end of the bed, his legs crossed and his elbows on his knees as he props his chin in his hands. “Don’t mind me. I’m just going to watch from right here.”

Just what he needed. An audience.

With a minor level of irritation, Castiel ignores Dean’s presence entirely and keeps going. He counts in his head and lays on his stomach again when he finishes the second rep of 12. “I hate this.”

“You always hate working out.” Dean laughs; a quiet huff of a noise. “I rarely see you do it at home.”

“That’s because it _sucks_.” Castiel grumbles, counting through his rest. “I like the treadmill because I can read while I walk, or listen to a book on tape while I run. Weights are the _worst_.”

Dean snorts, his laugh louder this time. “But you look so _good_ when you’re all sweaty.”

“Keep it in your pants, birthday boy.” Castiel grunts as he reaches sixty and pushes himself up again. Just twelve more push ups and he’s done with this portion of his work out.

Sam shows up three push ups before he’s finished. “Hungry?”

“Always!” Dean relocates to the head of the bed, almost wiggling in excitement. “Thanks, Sammy! It looks great.” He rubs his hands together and reaches for the fork.

Castiel gets to his feet and stretches again now that he’s finished. He clears his throat loudly to stop them both in their place. They both look to him, confused, but Castiel just raises his eyebrows at Sam and hopes that will get the point across.

It does.

Together, they sing _Happy Birthday_ with Dean watching on, smiling brightly long after they’re done.

“Thanks, guys!”

As he tucks into his breakfast, Sam disappears into the hall again. He returns a few moments later with two more plates. Castiel takes his place next to Dean; his food balanced precariously on a towel-covered pillow in his lap. Sam drags his desk chair over from his bedroom and sets up at the end of the bed, eating straight on the blanket with no regard for what he might get on it. Castiel chooses not to make mention of it, because this is nice.

Yes, they probably could have gathered up and gone to the kitchen table to eat, but that would defeat the purpose of birthday breakfast in bed. And this is such a nice start to the day. Why would he ruin it?

* * *

Despite his usual boisterous attitude, Dean’s whole birthday is a rather watered down affair. Castiel expected a big party full of all the friends he’s made through the school since he’s actually in _Sioux Falls _ for it this year.

Instead, it’s just the three of them for most of the day. Bobby and Pam have work to do, so any festivities with them are deferred until the evening. Castiel worries that him being here is why Dean doesn’t invite anyone else, but he can’t bring himself to actually ask.

“Today is a no-training day!” Dean shoves Castiel down onto the couch and follows after him as Sam stretches out on the other one. “No gun range. No obstacle course. And I’m giving you a pass on the rest of your work out. Today, we get to be _lazy_.”

“So decrees the birthday boy.” Sam laughs as he raises his hands to clap.

Castiel is _very_ happy with that news. He’s had to run the course twice since they arrived and if he hated it before, then he has no words for how he feels about it when there’s snow and biting wind and _cold_ to deal with too.

They end up spending most of the morning watching movies. Dean picked out a number of movies he wants to marathon and, as birthday boy, no one can deny him it. Castiel feels like he should probably get _some _transcribing done today and – and he has no idea what they’re doing this afternoon.

“What are the plans for the day?”

“This.” Dean gestures at the TV as the first _Indiana Jones_ opening credits begin to roll. “And then lunch, and then maybe some video games. Maybe a nap. Then pizza, beer, and cards over at Bobby’s.”

It doesn’t sound particularly special, but if that’s how Dean wants to spend his birthday, who would dare to argue?

“Could I do some transcribing this afternoon?”

“Of course.” Dean flops across the couch to rest his head in Castiel’s lap. “You can do whatever you want. This is what _I’m_ doing today.”

Castiel simply nods in understanding. The movie has started and he should probably keep quiet now.

* * *

After lunch, Sam takes the Impala into town to get party supplies. Apparently they don’t actually have pizzas on hand for Dean’s birthday, and they certainly don’t have enough beer. There’s also a pie or two to be purchased, and Castiel makes sure to transfer Sam some money to help by it all.

He has an ongoing feud with the Winchesters when it comes to money. They insist on paying for everything whenever he travels with them, despite how he also makes use of their motel room and the Impala and eats just as much as they do. When he tries to pay for everything during their visits, particularly when he tries paying for food, they sneak his money back into the house for him to find after they’ve left.

No matter what he does, he just can’t stop them from spending money on him.

That’s fine, though. He’ll just get them extravagant gifts for their birthdays. Like the gift he got for Dean. It’s _fantastic_ and he can’t wait to give it to him later, after they’ve had the birthday pie. Castiel has had it burning a hole in his suitcase since he went Christmas shopping and he _really_ hopes that Dean likes it.

The gift was found in a very nerdy store at the mall. It was one of the few stores he actually spent an extended period of time in without having an anxiety attack – mostly because there were plenty of things that he would have liked to buy for himself too. But what caught his eye the most was the life size _Boba Fett_ replica helmet on the shelf behind the counter.

There was no way he could have walked out of the store without that helmet. Not after he was subjected to a heated argument between Dean and Sam the night they binge watched the majority of the _Star Wars _series (including the horrible prequels). Sam had mentioned offhandedly that _Boba Fett_ wasn’t as awesome as everyone makes him out to be. That was followed with the movie being paused and a half hour of Castiel’s life wasted.

To be fair, Dean did have some very good points about why _Boba Fett_ was every bit as awesome as people claim. It pointed out a lot of subtle things that he hadn’t considered before – which is a marvel in and of itself considering how many times he’s watched those movies in his life.

That had happened the last time they were here and so, of course, Castiel had to buy the helmet. He’s positive that Dean will love it.

Sure enough, when they return from Bobby’s place much later that evening, Dean puts the helmet front and center on the entertainment unit under the TV. He’s the only one sober between the four of them (Bobby and Pam obviously having been left behind at the house once Dean put them to bed), and Castiel and Sam kind of stand and sway in place while they wait for him to finish fussing over it.

There’s a little happy light that sits warmly behind Castiel’s ribs whenever Dean looks at the helmet and just _beams_.

Since they stayed so late at Bobby’s, they disperse to their respective bedrooms instead of hanging around further.

As Castiel tucks up to Dean’s back, because Dean _adore_s being the little spoon (especially when Castiel folds a silky wing, groomed just this morning, over him and kisses the back of his neck), Dean sighs; “Best. Birthday. Ever.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Friday – January 25th, 2019_ **

Castiel takes his foot off the pedal and cocks his head to the side, listening. He thought he heard something that wasn’t on the recording. When he doesn’t hear anything quite immediately, he presses on the pedal only to immediately stop again. This time, he takes his headphones off and turns from the table, listening intently.

Neither Winchester is in the apartment at the moment. As far as Castiel knows, Dean had intended to work on the Impala in the heated garage below to chip away at his backlog of maintenance. Sam had been doing various chores, but the silence in the unit tells Castiel that he left too.

The sounds that he heard are distant and muffled, but he knows what it is; raised voices coming through the floor. Despite the biting winter cold outside, Castiel’s curiosity wins out and he stands up to go investigate. He bundles up in his coat and hat, forgoing the scarf and mitts since the garage is supposed to be heated and he’ll only be outside for going down the stairs.

As he approaches the side door to the garage, tucked away under the stairs to the apartment, the voices are much clearer and he can tell that it’s Dean and Sam arguing. He hesitates for a moment, but decides that it would be best to stop them from yelling at one another. Whatever they’re fighting about can be discussed with level heads like the adults they are.

They both fall silent the moment he swings the door open and steps inside. Dean is red faced and Sam is distinctly upset. Castiel looks between the two of them and frowns. “Is everything alright?”

Dean glances at Castiel, then gives Sam one last withering glare before he storms off. He brushes past Castiel and ducks out the door, muttering to himself about _ungrateful bastards_. Castiel’s frown deepens as he looks after him. Snow and gravel crunch under Dean’s boots as he stomps across the yard and up the stairs to Bobby’s back door, slamming it behind him.

His first reaction is to start after Dean, but Castiel stops himself after one step. In all the time that he’s known Dean, he’s learned that during an outburst like this, it’s best to leave him alone for a while to calm down.

Instead, Castiel turns to Sam where he stands next to the Impala with his arms crossed and his eyes focused on the floor. He crosses the short distance to put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Sam jerks his head to the side, glaring at the Impala instead of the floor. “He’s just being an asshole. Like usual.”

“Sam.” Castiel tries to keep his voice even and calm; _understanding_. He’s not taking sides, but he wants to know what’s going on. “Why were you two yelling at each other?”

After a long moment of silence, Sam sighs and he seems to deflate. He starts walking for the door and Castiel follows after him, not willing to give this up until he has his answers. They end up back in the apartment, Sam stretched out on the long couch and Castiel sitting patiently on the love seat.

Eventually, Sam gets his phone out and taps away at the screen. He passes it over to Castiel once he’s found what he’s looking for. It’s a confirmation email from the _University of Kansas_. Castiel reads through it and he can’t help but smile as he realizes that Sam has been accepted for online classes – from what he remembers from the course logs that Sam had been looking at, these are the first steps towards a degree in _law_.

“You made up your mind, I see.” Castiel passes the phone back. “You want to be a lawyer?”

“Yeah.” Sam ruffles a hand through his hair before draping an arm over his eyes. “I figured that might be the best way to join the fight for mutant rights.” He sighs. “Meeting you and Anna kinda really kicked that off for me and, well, you know my resolution.”

Castiel hums in answer and encouragement, hoping he’ll keep talking. It works and Sam continues.

“I’m an _unregistered_ too, right? It’s not so bad for me because my mutation isn’t physically obvious.” He rolls onto his side and stares at the blank TV. “All this time, I’ve been hunting down rogue mutants and purposefully not thinking about _why_ some of them aren’t registered. And I – I just – I’ve _seen_ how hard it is for Dean, sometimes. He’ll order a drink at the bar and get refused as soon as they card him as a mutant. Or the cops will give us a hard time when we try and turn in a bounty.”

His gaze flickers down to look at him. “I want the world to be a better place for mutants – for you and Anna. For _Dean_.”

Something soft and warm swells behind his ribs and Castiel smiles at him. “That’s really nice, Sam.” He reaches out to put a hand on his ankle – the closest part of Sam to him. “It’s going to be tough, you know, but I think the mutant rights movement could really use someone like you.”

Sam smiles slightly, but looks away again. “Dean isn’t happy about it.”

Yes, he figured that much given the argument. The reason why, however, evades him. “How come?”

“He’s not the greatest with change.” Sam’s expression crunches up unhappily. “He doesn’t want to stop hunting and if I want to be a lawyer, I’m going to have to stop hunting at some point.”

Castiel frowns and glances out the window towards Bobby’s place. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Nah.” He pushes himself up and runs a hand through his hair again. “It’s better to just leave him alone for now. He’s just going to drink all of Bobby’s beer while he sulks in the spare bedroom. I figure he’ll probably listen to loud music until he calms down.” Sam shrugs and shakes his head. “You can’t talk to him when he’s like that.”

And, true to Sam’s word, Dean is gone for a long time. It’s a few hours at least before he comes back to the apartment. By then, Castiel is finished with his transcribing and he’s moved on to doing some editing for a lack of anything better to do. He does glance up when Dean comes in; stopping in the doorway and glancing around the room.

Dean beelines for the fridge and gets a beer. “Where’s Sam?”

“Out shopping.” Castiel saves his files and starts closing them. He has the feeling that he’s not going to be getting back to work anytime soon.

He hesitates before cracking open the beer. “Shopping for _what_?”

“School supplies.” Castiel closes his laptop and turns to face him. “He wanted to get some notebooks and binders. Pens, paper. The works. His first class is scheduled to start March 1st, but he didn’t want to wait too long to get the things he needs.

Dean goes still before taking a long draw from his beer. He throws the cap into the trash and slams the cupboard door a little harder than necessary. Castiel sighs and stands up. “What’s wrong?”

“Fucking _nothing_.” He grumbles and stomps over to the couch. “I just can’t believe he’s pulling this stupid bullshit.”

That stings a little, even though it’s directed at Sam and not him. Castiel follows after him, forcing himself to keep calm so he doesn’t incite Dean further. “Well, I think it’s wonderful that he wants to go to school.” He stands at the end of the couch and looks down at him. “And it’s for such a good reason too, don’t you think?”

With a scoff, Dean takes another swig of his beer – more than half of it already gone. “He can’t hunt with his nose in a goddamn book.”

“So then he doesn’t hunt.” Castiel shrugs and steps around the edge of the couch to sit on the arm rest. “I’m sure you’ve both saved up quite a bit of money, haven’t you?” He can’t imagine that they have that many bills given that Bobby charges them very little for rent and all amenities are included. “What’s the _real_ problem here, Dean?”

“It’s fucking _selfish_, is what it is!” Dean sneers and crosses his arm, actually _sulking_. “He didn’t talk to me about it and now I’m going to be left high and dry. What do I do, huh? I can’t hunt without him!”

Castiel frowns; tilting his head to try and catch Dean’s eye. “That’s not true. There are many hunters, even ones without mutant powers, that hunt alone. Your dad is one, isn’t he?”

Dean’s lips press together in a thin line and his glare narrows down on the coffee table. For a moment, Castiel doesn’t think that he’ll get an actual answer, but then Dean gestures angrily, hand cutting through the air. “That’s just it! We’re not _just_ hunting, Cas! When we’re out there, we’re looking for _Dad_ too. If Sam doesn’t want to hunt anymore… Then what? He doesn’t want to look for Dad either? He’s just going to give up on the only family we’ve got left?”

Ah, there’s the root of the issue. Now Castiel can understand why Dean is upset.

He shifts down to the cushion and reaches out to put a hand on Dean’s knee. “Your dad isn’t the only family you have. What about Bobby and Pam? Or me? Aren’t we your family too?”

The tight line of Dean’s shoulders relaxes slightly and he sinks further into his seat. He sighs and covers Castiel’s hand with his. “Of course you are, but it’s –” He stops to drain the last of his beer. “But it’s our fucking _dad_.” He sits forward to slam the empty bottle down on the coffee table. “Our _dad_. Why the hell wouldn’t we look for him?”

Castiel worries his bottom lip for a moment, watching as Dean slumps back into the couch again. There’s something about this topic that has bothered him for a while now. Is this the right moment to bring it up? Or should he just leave it be? He weighs the odds of this going badly and figures there’s no better time for it. If it goes badly, then he’ll deal with that as it happens.

“This might not be my place to say…” Castiel starts slowly, waiting until Dean looks at him. “But, exactly how long has it been since you last saw him?”

Dean must know where he’s going with this. He goes still again, expression darkening, though he doesn’t actually answer.

Castiel squeezes his knee. “And how long has it been since he last contacted you? Since he last picked up the phone when you called?”

The silence is stony and the hand over his moves away.

“I can’t speak for your father, Dean, but –” He shifts in his seat and takes his hand away. “But from where I’m sitting, it seems that he means more to you than you both mean to him. Why would you keep looking for someone who hasn’t responded to your efforts to reach him for _years_?”

“Because he’s my fucking _dad_!” Dean explodes, standing up sharply from the couch and spinning to face him. His face is filled with fury and red with rage. “If you had one, you’d fucking kn–”

His jaw snaps shut immediately and everything drains away. Dean almost staggers back, face pale as the full realization of his words hits him. Castiel stares up at him, the bottom dropping out of his stomach and his chest aching. Slowly, he gets to his feet and turns away. Dean doesn’t call out to him or try and stop him as he goes to the bedroom without a word.

Dean doesn’t follow.

* * *

There’s music on his phone and earbuds on the bedside table. Castiel listens to the soundtracks to his favourite movies as he lays stretched out on the bed, stomach down and his head hanging over the edge of the bed while he just – Just doesn’t know what to do. There’s an angry ball of _hurt_ pulsing away behind his ribs and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He stays like that for a long time. Dozens of songs have played by the time there’s a knock at the door. It opens and Castiel turns his head just enough to note that the feet that enter his field of vision belong to Sam. Dean wears fun socks with silly patterns and Sam wears athletic socks – all the same colour and brand so he never has to hunt to find pairs.

Very obviously, Castiel lifts his phone and pauses the music.

“So…” Sam clears his throat and rocks back and forth on his heels. “He told me what he said.”

Castiel hums an acknowledgement. “Mm.”

“He wants to come apologize.” There’s a moment of hesitation as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m guessing you don’t really want to talk to him, huh?”

“Mm.”

Sam sighs and turns towards the door. “He’s going to be sleeping on the couch tonight, isn’t he?”

“Mmhmm.” Though it will be weird, considering that this is technically Dean’s room and Castiel is the guest here. But he doesn’t much feel like sharing a bed with him tonight. If there are objections to it, then Castiel will take the couch.

“Okay.” Sam steps out the door. “I’ll let him know.” He closes it behind him and Castiel starts the music again, listening to the haunting, ethereal tones from the _Lord of the Rings_ soundtrack.

* * *

** _Saturday – January 26th, 2019_ **

It’s mid-morning when Castiel finally comes out of the bedroom. He goes straight into the bathroom, though he does note the scent of bacon in the air. Dean is definitely awake, since Sam’s bedroom door is shut. That’s a good thing, actually. It gives them a chance to finally chat – not that Castiel wants to.

He sulked half the night and slept poorly. Thanks to Dean, he’s gotten very used to sleeping with someone and not having him to cuddle was – it was difficult. Particularly because of how upset he was with him last night.

Once he finally makes it to the kitchen, Castiel finds Dean sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee clutched between his hands. When he looks up at him, there are dark bags under his eyes. It looks like he didn’t sleep at all, or slept just as badly as Castiel did.

“I’m sorry.” Dean is half out of his chair before Castiel gestures for him to stay seated and goes to the coffee maker. “I’m _really_ sorry, Cas. I didn’t mean to say that.”

He hums and pours his own coffee, adding cream and sugar and taking his time stirring it all together while Dean tries talking himself out of the hole he dug last night.

“I just – I got really angry about this situation with Sam because –” Dean pauses, and looks down at his coffee. His whole body slumps with a sigh. “Because you’re _right_.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow and blows on his coffee. He leans his hip against the counter and sips at it, watching as Dean percolates for a moment. Eventually, he stands up and goes over to what appears to be a hashbrowns, eggs, and bacon casserole sitting on the stove. Dean starts plating some of it for them.

“I know Dad ditched us and it kills me not knowing why.” He drizzles an excessive amount of ketchup over one. “I’m scared if we stop looking for him, then it’s just – it’s the end, y’know? Of our family. And then what are we supposed to do if we stop hunting? At least Sam _looks_ normal. He can follow his dreams. I’m _registered_, and with all these scars… Who’s going to hire me?” He looks so defeated. “I’ll be lucky if I get a job scraping gum off a picnic table. Hunting is just about the only damn thing I _can_ do.”

Castiel takes his coffee to the table and sits opposite Dean so breakfast can be served. Dean picks at his without actually eating any, and he keeps glancing up at him. It’s heartbreaking and Castiel reaches out to take his hand. “I understand.”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Try not to snap at me like that again.”

Dean nods. “I promise I’ll try.” He brings Castiel’s hand to his lips for a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

His appetite is better after that. Castiel gets halfway through his meal before a thought occurs to him, and he can’t believe he didn’t think of it before. “What about Pam? She’s a psychic. Have you asked her to try and use her visions to find your dad?”

“Not really.” Dean shrugs and shifts uncomfortably on his chair. “I figured if she could have done it, she already would’ve. And, I mean, we know he’s still hunting. We know the trail he leaves of hunts he’s completed and his general hunting radius. It’s not like he’s _dead_ or anything.”

A fair point, though Castiel makes a mental note to reach out to Pam on their behalf. If neither of them wants to ask her, then he’ll do it. Lord knows he’s curious enough himself to want to find out why the hell John Winchester abandoned his children. Dean and Sam deserve better.

“If he wanted to be a part of your lives, he would be.” Castiel huffs, trying not to sound like he’s as frustrated with their father as he really is. “I think you’ve put enough of your energy into him and you should focus more on yourselves now.”

Dean huffs a short laugh, mirthless and flat. “And do _what_?”

“You can do anything, Dean.” Castiel spreads his arms and then gestures at the bag next to the table with his laptop. “There are plenty of websites where mutants post jobs specifically for other mutants. You can look into those, or take classes for a different kind of career. Look at Anna. She’s a class _three_ and she has a halfway decent job, and she applied for a position at _Mutandis_, so soon she’s going to have two. I’m sure someone as charismatic as you can find another job.”

Dean stares at him for a long moment, though he doesn’t look convinced. “And then what? If I quit hunting, where am I going to settle down? Here? Lawrence? Without hunting or the commute back here, you’ll end up never leaving your house again.”

“We can still travel, Dean.” Castiel rolls his eyes and turns back to his meal. “I’m fairly comfortable in the car and at motels now. We can still visit Bobby and Pam, or go on road trips. Just because I work from home doesn’t mean I’m bound to it.”

An idea occurs to him and he looks up sharply. “What about looking into something like long distance trucking? I know you like the open road. Why not drive for a living?”

At that, Dean actually looks surprised. He turns his head to stare out the window for a minute, absently picking at his meal. After a while, he looks back to Castiel again, and he almost looks hopeful. “Do you think they would hire a mutant?”

“It couldn’t hurt to look into it.” Castiel shrugs, offering an encouraging smile. “You would need to get a trucker’s license and take some training, but I think it should be possible. You could probably keep hunting too. I don’t imagine that it would be hard to pick up bounties as long as you still stayed within your drive time. If your dad can hunt alone, you could too.”

Dean actually looks like he’s contemplating it – sitting upright, relaxed, and smiling. “I’ll think about it.”

Castiel can’t help smiling wider. He takes Dean’s hand again. Now to ask a dynamite of a question with the very real potential of derailing this conversation again. “Are you still going to be mad at Sam for wanting to go back to school?”

As expected, Dean’s face clouds over again. Thankfully, it’s nowhere as bad as it was yesterday and he only sinks marginally back into his chair. “No, I guess not. It was a knee jerk reaction and I feel really bad about it. Especially for what I said to you.” His bottom lip sticks out slightly, eyes widening as he looks at Castiel. “Seriously, Cas, I didn’t mean it. I just got worked up and said some stupid shit and – ”

“I know.” He squeezes his hand to cut him off. “But you had better apologize to Sam as well.”

“Yeah, yeah. Definitely, of course.”

“Good.” Castiel sits back to finish off the rest of his breakfast, though it’s gotten a bit cold by this point.

Dean drums his fingers on the table top and licks his lips. “Uh – Does – Does that mean I can sleep with you again tonight?”

“As long as you don’t do anything else to upset me.” He shrugs and smiles around his fork. “Yes.”

The smile that spreads is well worth it and Dean stands up. He kisses the top of Castiel’s head before getting him seconds. Instead of making himself another plate, Dean fills up a third plate and takes it out of the kitchen. Castiel leans back in his chair enough to watch him practically kick Sam’s bedroom door open wide.

“Breakfast is _served_, bitch!”

Sam must have still been sleeping. He makes a noise halfway between a squawk and a squeal, followed with some very loud cursing. Castiel almost snorts his coffee out his nose as he tries not to laugh.

Hopefully today will be better than yesterday.

* * *

It’s a mad dash to pack and leave in the early afternoon. An unexpected hunt with a high price tag came up that neither Winchester wanted to pass on. That and they decided that they would do less hunts while Sam has his online classes, which means they want to cram as many as they can in between now and the first of March when the classes start. On the bright side, it’s all distance education, meaning he can do it from home or the road, if need be.

That certainly helped with getting Dean accustomed to the idea that Sam is starting down a different path than hunting. Despite the conversation over breakfast, Dean has definitely been quieter today. Not as moody, per se, but certainly contemplative.

Accepting the hunt means that they need to take Castiel back to _Lawrence_ first, which is a bit out of their way. At least Sam can do some research on their target from the road; not much, but it will be a head start on things they can follow up on later.

They plan to spend the night at Castiel’s place and then leave early in the morning. Castiel is a bit disappointed in the short trip, but he’s been with the Winchesters since mid-December, so it’s no surprise. It’s high time they picked up a hunt anyways.

As long as they stay safe and Dean promises to be back in time to celebrate their first Valentine’s Day together, then he doesn’t care how many hunts they go on. Castiel doesn’t normally hold any importance to the day, but this is his first relationship and – Well, he’d _like_ to have his first Valentine’s Day for his first relationship be at least somewhat special.

Though they don’t need presents. That’s cliché and stupid, and there’s nothing that he wants anyways.

* * *

** _Sunday – January 27th, 2019_ **

Castiel is just sinking into a warm bath when his phone starts ringing. He groans and turns over onto his stomach, reaching for where he left it on a pile of his clothes next to the tub. Of course it’s an unknown number, which he never answers, and he leaves it to go to voicemail. If it’s about something important, they’ll leave a message and he can get back to them later.

His phone beeps with the distinct tone of a new voicemail and he reaches for it again. With half his body hanging over the edge of the tub, Castiel plays it on speakerphone. This had better be good or he’s going to be _very _annoyed that his solitary bath time was interrupted.

“_Castiel, this is Pam.” _Her voice coming through the speaker nearly has Castiel dropping his phone and falling flat on his face over the edge of the tub. “_Call me back. I won’t even mind that you’re calling me while you’re naked_.”

He fumbles to erase the message and then taps the call back on the unknown number. Castiel sets it to speaker phone again and sinks back into the tub on his stomach, keeping his wings out of the water. It rings once before Pam picks up.

“_Hello, cutie._” She sounds like she’s smiling, so that’s certainly a plus. “_You’ve been thinking some really loud thoughts lately_.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel places the phone on the edge of the tub at the corner, closer to being knocked to the floor and onto the pile of his clothing than into the water. He doesn’t think he’s been focusing on anything specific lately, but Pam’s powers are well beyond his understanding. Maybe her visions have picked up on a _subconscious_ thought?

Pam laughs, loud and boisterous. “_Oh, sweetie. You were debating calling me to ask about John Winchester_.” The laughter trails off into a deep sigh. “_I had a vision of it and thought I’d save you the trouble of having to work up the nerve to pick up the phone_.”

Strangely, making phone calls has never really caused Castiel that much anxiety. It’s _in person_ contact that he has problems with, because there’s always the chance of his wings being noticed. He only thought about calling Pam once or twice, but he didn’t really think that she would give him any answers – especially given how long she’s known Dean and Sam and never given _them_ anything.

Castiel worries at his bottom lip for a moment, eyes fixed on the phone. “Are you able to tell me _anything _about their dad? Have you ever had visions of him before?”

“_I have visions of all the hunters in our network._” Pam’s shrug is almost audible. “_I’ve had a number of visions about John and I – I’ve never told the boys because some of those visions aren’t –_” She pauses and huffs. “_Well, cutie, they’re not **great**._”

Oh no.

He pushes up on his elbows a little more, wings rising with him. “Has he been hurt?”

“_Sometimes, but never fatally_.”

Castiel frowns at the phone. He turns her words over in his mind a few times, trying to pick apart what it is that she isn’t telling him. If Pam has never told Sam or Dean about any of this, then there has to be a reason why she’s telling him now.

“Do you…” He starts slowly, crossing his fingers in hope of a good answer. “Do you know why he doesn’t contact them?”

There’s a moment where he thinks that she isn’t going to tell him, but then Pam sighs. “_Yeah, I do._” A rustle of fabric on the other end of the line makes the call crackle slightly. “_Guilt plays a heavy factor in why John doesn’t answer Dean’s calls_.”

Well, good. If he didn’t feel _some_ sense of guilt for essentially abandoning his sons in their teens, then Castiel would have some very choice words for John Winchester. “Oh, so he feels bad for how long it’s been since he saw them last? That’s why he can’t pick up the phone?”

It’s a piss poor reason, if that’s the truth.

Pam hums and haws to herself for a few moments, and a door closes in the background of the call. “_A bit, I guess. But I think his guilt has more to do with Adam Milligan_.”

“Who’s that?” Castiel frowns and wracks his brain for any mention of that name before. It’s unfamiliar to him and he hopes that he hasn’t forgotten someone important in Dean and Sam’s lives.

Of course, Pam’s next answer hits him like a slap in the face. “_He’s John’s son._”

No. Castiel refuses to believe that he would have forgotten that Dean and Sam have a brother. That aside, his name is Adam _Milligan_. Not _Winchester_. So – This doesn’t make any sense at all. “They’ve never mentioned –”

“_Can’t mention someone they don’t know exists_.” Pam laughs, but there’s no amusement in it. “_As far as my visions have turned up, John knocked up Adam’s mom in his first year of hunting. She was a nurse that tended to him when he was hurt on a hunt. Nine months later and Adam was born. He’ll be fourteen this year._”

Oh God. Castiel drops his head to rest his forehead against the edge of the tub. Having a second family falls firmly under the category of reasons he never considered for their father. A sense of dread falls over him and Castiel doesn’t care that his wings droop into the water against his sides.

“Does he… Does John see Adam a lot?”

“_Yes._” Pam sounds resigned about it. “_Kate and Adam are his home base when he’s not hunting. They never married, but…_”

Castiel balls his hands into fists and presses them into the side of the tub. “But they’re his new family.” He bites out the words and hates how sour they taste in his mouth. “That’s why he just… why he _abandoned_ Dean and Sam.”

Pam hums in agreement. “_And now you know why I’ve never told them._”

He can’t even begin to imagine how Dean will react to this news. Because now that Castiel knows, of course he’s going to tell the Winchesters about it. He’ll dread it until it happens, but they deserve to know. How Pam could have kept this from them for so long is beyond him.

“Why did you tell me this?” Castiel lifts his head to look at the phone. “Why _now_?”

“_Because Sam told us that he’s starting school in March._” Pride fills her words and she takes a deep breath. “_He said he wants to be a lawyer and, between you and me, I **know** he’s going to be amazing._” Pam laughs again, light and airy. “_And then Dean called up to see if we had any contacts that might help him get a job outside the hunting business. You have no idea of the impact you’ve had on those two, do you? Because of you, our boys are turning into quite the homebodies._”

A flush fills Castiel’s cheeks and it has nothing to do with the heat of the water or the steam still heavy in the air of the bathroom. He ducks his head and sinks down a little more, feet kicking in the air behind him as his knees bump the edge of the tub.

“I might have had an inkling.” Though he definitely didn’t know that Dean was actually following up on leads for different jobs. They had talked about it once, the morning after Dean’s big blow up, but that had essentially been the end of it. Between finding the job, packing up, and heading home, there wasn’t really much time to talk again.

“_I don’t know about you, cutie, but I think it’s about time they know the truth._” Pam hums, sounding equal parts amused though serious. “_Listen. John is a good man who’s made some mistakes. He loved Mary a whole hell of a lot and her death changed him. With Sam presenting similar abilities to what killed her so soon after… Well, it was hard for him to stick around._”

Castiel opens his mouth to argue, but Pam keeps on talking. “_I’m not making excuses for him and I’m definitely not saying that leaving the boys was the right choice. Believe me, he’s gotten all manner of flak from Bobby and me over the years. What I’m saying is… I don’t think John really knew what else to do._”

It’s hard, but Castiel has to remind himself that John Winchester is just a man. He’s not some mythical being that doesn’t actually exist. He’s just another person and he’s not perfect. But _still_, Castiel wants to be _so mad_ at him. His feathers fluff with his emotions, though some of them are now damp.

“I see.” His voice is tight, because he doesn’t. He just can’t wrap his head around how anyone could just up and leave such good people as Dean and Sam.

“_It’s up to you if you want to tell them or not_.” Pam wisely chooses to not argue with him, thankfully. “_I know it’s a lot, but you’re basically they’re keeper now. I’m putting this information squarely in your hands to do with what you want._”

Castiel raises an eyebrow and glances at his phone. “I’m their _keeper_?”

“_Well, they’ve basically moved in with you._” She’s smiling again; voice teasing. “_I bet you even split the bills with them._”

That’s not too far from the truth. He doesn’t charge them rent since the house is all paid off, but the Winchesters _insist_ on paying their share of the electricity and water for when they’re here. They also tend to take over the whole grocery bill during their visits, despite how Castiel tries to pay for his share. As a house full of mutants, they all tend to eat a lot more than most people and it only makes sense that he helps pay for it.

Pam continues talking. “_Of course, they’ll always be Bobby’s boys, and the little brothers I never wanted, but they’ve got a new home with you now._” She pauses, sounding thoughtful. “_Just make sure they come visit us every once in a while, okay?_”

“I –” He wants to argue that he’s not their keeper and they’re definitely their own people, but there’s a sneaking suspicion under the surface that he would lose that argument. “Okay?”

“_Great_!” Pam sounds as cool and chipper as she normally does again. _“I’ve got to get back to work now, so I’ll just wish you good luck. I know you’re going to do the right thing with this information_.”

“Any chance you can tell me what that right thing is?”

Her laughter fills the bathroom. “_Not a cat’s chance in hell, cutie. Bye!_” And the line goes dead.

Castiel sighs and pushes his phone off the edge of the tub, ignoring the dull thump of it falling onto the pile of clothing. He sags against the slanted back of the tub and rests his cheek against the slick surface. That was definitely not how he expected his nice, relaxing bath to go. And now he’s got this _information_ hanging over his head.

He’s overwhelmed with the gravity of that information.

Of _course_, he’s going to tell them. There’s no conceivable way that he could keep this big of a secret without having it come back to bite him in the ass later on. However, this is something that needs to be told to them in person. Castiel wants to be able to comfort them if it’s needed afterwards.

* * *

“I need your Facebook password.” Castiel has the log-in screen opening in front of him with Anna’s e-mail address already typed in.

“_What for_?” To her credit, she doesn’t sound suspicious. “_Dean doesn’t have a Facebook account. I already checked. You won’t be able to stalk him through my profile._”

He rolls his eyes and rubs a hand over his face. “That’s not it. I just… I need to try and find some people. I don’t want to make my own account to do that.” He’s made it this long without making a social media account, and he’s not going to crumble now. Granted, he didn’t _have_ a social life before the Winchesters came into his life.

“_Fine, but you had better fill me in about this later._” Anna’s voice drifts back a bit and there’s the dull thump of typing in the foreground. “_I’m texting you the password right now. Don’t follow anyone, and don’t look at my private messages_.”

“I promise I won’t use anything but the search function.” Castiel picks up his phone and thumbs the screen back on so he can watch his messaging app for her password. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“_Is it juicy?_”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Yes, but I’m not telling you about it. Not yet. This is something I need to talk to Dean and Sam about first.”

Her smile is audible in her voice. “_Looking forward to it. I’m going to get back to work, but you let me know if you need anything else_.”

“Definitely. Thank you.”

The call ends and, a moment later, the password comes in. Castiel types it into the appropriate field and logs into Anna’s account. The interface is foreign to him, but thankfully the search bar is where most tend to be. His palms are sweating slightly and he wipes them on the towel he’s wearing around his waist; having come straight from his bath to here.

Of the two names he was given, Castiel searches _Adam Milligan_ first. There are many results that come up and he checks each one, going through past pictures and any posts that aren’t blocked from non-friends to see. None of them stand out to him as one who could be John’s son, and that’s about when Castiel realizes that he also has no idea what John Winchester looks like.

Well, that made this a little more difficult than he thought it would be.

Next, he searches _Kate Milligan_. The results are about the same and he groans before clicking the first one. This is so _annoying_, especially when more than half the accounts have security settings that prevent him from seeing more than just every time they change their profile picture.

Finally, on the sixth result, he finds a public profile where the cover photo is a woman, man, and a boy who could feasibly be around fourteen years old. The most recent post is a picture of the woman and the boy, both of them wearing wide brimmed hats, gardening gloves, and work belts filled with gardening tools. The caption on the post has Castiel’s heart jumping to his throat; _Spent the day gardening with Adam! He’s definitely got his mom’s green thumb. _

He doesn’t want to believe that he’s found the right Kate until he’s found proof of John on her profile. Castiel holds his breath as he scrolls further down, looking for confirmation about the man in the cover picture. All he needs is a _name_ and –

There!

The picture Castiel stops at is Adam sitting on the tailgate of a truck bed and the man standing next to him. There’s camping gear piled in the back of the truck and Adam has an arm on a cooler. The caption for this picture reads; _My boys__❤ going off to spend the weekend fishing. John promised to bring me home some trout. Looking forward to it!_

John. Kate. Adam.

There’s no way this can’t be them. Just in case, Castiel prints any picture with John in it that he can find – cover photo included. He only prints one picture of Kate and Adam together. On the back of it, he writes where Kate’s profile says they live – _Windom, Minnesota_.

It would be easy to e-mail or text these to the Winchesters, but Castiel can’t do that to them. They’re on a hunt and they don’t need the distraction it would cause. Instead, he pulls a file folder from his desk drawer and safely tucks the pictures away. He puts the whole thing in a drawer so he doesn’t have to look at them again. As it is, he’s going to have to fight _so hard_ not to say anything about it over the coming weeks whenever he talks with Dean.

But Castiel needs to tell them this in person. They’re a family and they’re going to handle this like a family.

_Together_.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Tuesday – February 12th, 2019_ **

It’s late afternoon when Castiel gets a text message notifying him that the Winchesters are leaving _Lawrence_ proper and are on their way home. He acknowledges the message with a thumbs up emoji and pushes back from his desk. There’s no way he’s going to be able to focus on his work now.

Two and a half weeks. It’s been _two and a half weeks_ since Pam dumped the mother of all secrets into his lap. The folder in his drawer mocks him every time he opens it, and it has caused him an unwarranted amount of stress. Castiel has tried _very hard_ and held his tongue more in the last few weeks than he has his entire life in an effort to keep from telling Dean over the phone.

Whether they meant it to or not, these past weeks were a bit of a trial. Even after making things ‘_official_’ between him and Dean, Castiel was still worried that he would spend the whole time they were apart riddled with anxiety. He’s never been in a relationship before and it’s not like he knows how things are supposed to go when you’re apart. Adding to the fact that _nothing_ about how he met the Winchesters and became friends with them is anything remotely like the ‘_norm’_.

His anxieties were for naught, however, and only served to prove that Aunt Amara was right about how he was essentially already dating Dean. They talked on the phone, via text message, or through video calls every day in some manner and it was – Well, it was exactly the same. Literally nothing had changed except that now Castiel signed off from their conversations with an ‘xo’ and a heart emoji. And Dean was much more liberal with his flirtations, if such a thing were possible.

And now they’re coming home and should be here within the next twenty or so minutes and Castiel feels like he’s going to have a heart attack. Should he tell them about their dad the moment they get through the door? Or should he wait until they’re settled and he can get them to sit still for long enough to tell them? Or should he wait another few days?

Valentine’s day is _two days_ away and he doesn’t want to ruin their first one together with this truly _massive _secret. But holding off on telling them until after Valentine’s Day might lead Dean into blowing up over how long he kept something this important from them. He’s already playing it fast and loose with waiting until today after sitting on the secret for two and a half weeks.

God, he’s going to _kill_ Pam for making him go through this. She could have just as easily told them herself instead of dumping this on the most anxious person she knows.

Castiel ends up pacing the length of the house while he waits. Every few laps he stops to look at the folder now rescued from its banishment to the drawer; sitting innocuously on the desktop where it _taunts_ him. He forces himself to walk away, but then another few laps go by and he gets distracted by it and the siren call of the photos inside.

When the front door opens, he nearly jumps right out of his skin. Castiel was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear the Impala come rumbling up the drive. He’s rounding the end of the hall when the door opens and he turns so sharply, wings flaring in surprise with the motion, that the curve of one bonks fairly hard into the wall. It _hurts_ and he folds it under his arm to hug to his chest, hissing quietly to himself.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice drifts from the foyer. “You home, honeybunch?”

“What did I say about pet names?” Castiel shakes his wing out before heading up the hall. “And of course I’m home. You just texted me.”

Dean grins up at him from where he and Sam are kicking out of their boots. “Aw, I missed your sass.” He laughs and scoops up the cooler as Sam heads down the stairs with their laundry. “Did’ja miss me?”

“Of course.” Castiel takes the cooler from him before when he reaches the second-to-top step. He leans down to kiss him in greeting, voice low and meant only for him to hear. “I always miss you.”

The cold left Dean’s cheeks pink, but they get darker at that. “Shit, you can’t say stuff like that to me.”

“Because it makes you flush so prettily?” He raises an eyebrow before turning away to take the cooler to the kitchen. “That’s just encouragement for me to keep it up.”

“_You_ were supposed to be the adorable one in this relationship!” Dean calls after him, and then proceeds to stomp back down the stairs to get all the grocery bags they brought. He mutters to himself about pain-in-the-ass boyfriends, from what Castiel can hear.

Castiel smiles as he starts putting things away. “I don’t recall signing an agreement to that.”

Sam shows up in the doorway to the kitchen while they’re putting everything away. Castiel glances at him to smile and greet him, but the words catch in his throat. Sam’s eyebrows are drawn together in a concerned frown. The look smooths out a moment later into a smile.

“Hey, Cas. How’s it going?”

“As good as it can be.” Castiel forces a smile, but notes how Sam’s brow twitches. It takes a moment for him to realize why.

Empathy. Oh _God_. Can Sam feel Castiel’s indecision? His worry and upset that makes his stomach churn? How much of it was he able to feel after they parked to get all their things out of the car? How accurate is his empathy? Can Sam figure out what it is that’s upsetting him? What it is about their presence that’s stressing him out?

There’s no way he can drag this out.

Castiel shuts the cupboard where he was lining up bags of chips on the shelf. His grip on the handle is a little tighter than needed. “I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “I need you both to go to the dining room and sit down.” To his credit, his voice only shakes a little bit.

Dean shares a concerned look with Sam before taking a step towards him. “Everything okay, Cas?”

“Please.” He turns from the cupboard and gestures at the doorway to the dining room. “Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

With that, Castiel brushes past Sam into the hall and heads to his office. His hand is shaking and he plants his palms on the desktop, counting backwards from one hundred to calm himself down. This is it. This is what he’s been waiting two and a half weeks for. He’s gone over a dozen or more different scenarios in his head and he can do this. He can give them terrible news.

Castiel hugs the folder to his chest as he goes back to the Winchesters. Thankfully, they listened to him and they’re seated side by side at the dining table. Both look at him with concern creasing their faces, Dean more so than Sam.

“I –” He puts the folder down and clears his throat. “Your dad is in _Windom, Minnesota_.”

Surprise wipes the concern from their expressions. Sam’s eyebrows nearly touch his hairline, but Dean has gone stony and serious. “What?” His voice is hard, but quiet.

It’s hard to meet Dean’s eyes and Castiel looks down at the folder. He drags a finger along the edge of it and takes a deep breath. “Pam called me the day you left. She thought – Well, she said that because you’re both looking into moving on from the hunter life, she thought it might be a good time to tell you the truth.”

Dean half rises out of his seat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What _truth_?” Sam asks, though he’s maintaining a measure of calm more than his brother.

“The truth is that your dad has a base in _Windom_. That’s where he goes in between hunts.”

When he looks up again, Dean is on his feet with his phone in his hand. A moment later he’s passing it to Sam with a storm in his eyes. “That’s less than _two fucking hours_ from _Sioux Falls_. Why the hell would he set up a home base _there_ and not at Bobby’s place with us?”

Sam glances at the phone, presumably a map, before looking back to Castiel. “There’s more, isn’t there? What else do you have to tell us?”

This is the part he dreaded the most. The shake is back in his fingers as he opens the folder to get the pictures. One by one he puts them out on the table in a line, turned away from him so Dean and Sam aren’t looking at them upside down.

“I don’t know what your dad looks like, but I – This is him, isn’t it?”

Dean picks up the fishing picture of John and Adam, grip so tight that it crinkles the edges. His breathing has gone quick, but shallow, and Castiel watches him closely. He flinches when Dean slams the picture down on the table and walks away; cutting through the kitchen to head out into the backyard. The door slams behind him so hard that pictures on the wall in the dining room tremble slightly.

Sam carefully slides the picture of John, Kate, and Adam closer, but otherwise doesn’t move or even react in the silence. His expression is eerily blank as he looks down at it. “He has another family.”

“Yes.” Castiel glances in the direction Dean left in. “Pam told me that she’s had visions of your dad before. She gave me Kate’s name.” He reaches out to tap a picture of Kate. “I did some research and found this on Facebook. I’m sorry I waited almost three weeks to tell you, but I felt this was something to tell you in person.”

“It’s okay.” Sam looks up with a small, strained smile. “It’s good that you waited, that we’re here for this. Thank you.” He looks down again and the smile falls away. “It – It answers a lot of questions. I get why Pam never told us. Dean, though –” Sam sighs and glances at the kitchen. “He’s really angry.”

It’s still Winter out there, though it’s a mild Kansas one, but there’s still a minimal amount of snow. Castiel hesitates only a moment before excusing himself. He detours to grab Dean’s coat and boots before slipping on his own and heading through the kitchen and out onto the deck.

Dean is sitting on the top of the stairs leading off the deck. His arms are crossed over his knees and his glaring out across the yard to the fire pit. The deck has been kept clean of snow, but his socked feet are probably still a little damp. He doesn’t seem to care as he roughly shoves them into his boots when Castiel puts them down next to him.

“Take all the time you need.” Castiel drapes the coat around Dean’s shoulders and kisses the top of his head. “I’ll be inside with Sam if you need to talk.”

He gets a grunt in answer, but Dean’s hand does come up to rest over his for just a moment while it’s on his shoulder.

As much as he hates leaving him there, Castiel goes back inside on his own. He’s learned by now that Dean prefers being alone when he’s angry.

* * *

That night, Sam turns in far earlier than normal. He essentially picked his way through dinner and went to his room after cleaning up. Likewise, Dean barely touches his meal and is quiet from the moment he comes in from the outdoors until Castiel heads to bed at a perfectly reasonable time. Essentially, the movie he watched with Dean to wind down from a day of travel was watched alone. Castiel doubts that Dean paid any form of attention to it.

He’s left in the living room with Netflix playing whatever TV show Castiel picked at random as background noise when he decided to go to bed. Dean barely even turned his face into the goodnight kiss and now Castiel is alone in bed, staring at the wall in the dark and wondering if he actually did the right thing by telling them about John.

At least an hour passes, though he can’t confirm it, when Dean finally pads silently into the bedroom. He changes in the dark, uses the bathroom in the dark, and crawls into bed all without saying a word or turning on the light. His hand is hot but his fingers gentle as he lifts Castiel’s arm to slip under it; cuddling up against his chest as if he’s trying to burrow into it. Castiel curls his arms around him, hugging him tightly as he folds a wing over them both.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t.” Dean practically whispers the words into the skin of his shoulder as he tucks his face into it with a sigh. “I’m not mad at you. Not even mad at Pam.”

Castiel wiggles his right arm free just enough to bend his elbow and get a finger into Dean’s hair; idly running his fingers through it. “You’re mad at your dad?”

“I’m fucking _furious_ with him.” Dean hisses, body going tense in Castiel’s arms. “He started a new family! He just – he fucking _ditched us_.” His breath hitches slightly before the fight goes out of him again. “No wonder Dad started visiting less. He had a newborn to take care of with his new _family_.”

He’s starting to shake and Castiel squeezes him harder, turning his nose into Dean’s hair. “Do you want to go confront him?”

If that’s what Dean wants, then Castiel will drop everything and spend their first Valentine’s Day together driving to _Windom, Minnesota_ to beat John Winchester up.

“Yes?” Dean pauses. “No. Maybe?” He sighs. “I don’t know. I just know that if I see him right now, I might punch him in the face.” There’s a quiet sniffle muffled against Castiel’s skin. “I think it’s best that I just – I just stay here and think about it for a while.”

“Take as long as you need.” Castiel presses a kiss into his hair. “I’ll be right here when you want to talk about it, or if you need back-up to go confront him.”

Dean presses a kiss in the center of his chest, but he says nothing more between then and when Castiel eventually falls asleep.

* * *

** _Thursday – February 14th, 2019_ **

Before he even opens his eyes, Castiel knows that Dean is awake. There’s just _something_ about the air of the bedroom when he comes back to consciousness slowly – a _feeling_ that he’s being watched. Castiel sighs and shifts away from the warm body he’s pressed against to roll onto his belly and stretch.

As his spine arches and his hips rise off the bed, his wings flare upward – not long enough to reach the ceiling just yet. When his molt starts in a few weeks, they’ll reach from wall to wall as the full-length feathers come in. Before his wings even settle against his back again, there’s a hand petting them, fixing any feathers that were crooked during the night.

Sure enough, Dean is grinning at him when he finally peels open his eyes. Castiel muffles a yawn under his hand and settles back into the mattress. “G’morning.”

“Mornin’, beautiful.” Dean slides close enough to press a kiss first to Castiel’s shoulder, and then another to his cheek. Fingers slip under his chin and turn his face enough to meet him for a proper kiss – short but sweet.

They’ve been sharing a bed for months now, and kisses before sleep and upon waking up have been a norm for them for a while. But ever since New Year’s Eve, Dean has been _especially_ affectionate during these times. He’s also made it a point to stay in bed until Castiel wakes up. Gone are the days of breakfast being ready. Dean wants to be the first thing Castiel sees when he opens his eyes – whether it means that he goes back to sleep or he’s awake and playing on his phone.

Either way, a warm smile always greets Castiel first thing and it makes his heart flip somersaults through his chest every time.

For once, Castiel lets the pet name slide – though he does wrinkle his nose just slightly at it. Calling him _beautiful_ is just about the only thing Dean has yet to give up, and Castiel refuses to admit that he’s come to like it. Mostly because it’s one of the few that his auntie has never used when referring to him, so there’s no confusing crossing of feelings regarding it.

A lazy smile splits Castiel’s face as he crosses his arms under his head and pillows his cheek against them. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Dean’s grin grows and he shimmies closer on the bed, tugging at Castiel’s arm until he has no choice but to lift up and give him space. Once they’re half-lying on each other, Dean draws him into more kisses. They only get a few in before Castiel has to pull away, chuckling through another nose wrinkle at the taste of their morning breath.

It inspires a laugh in Dean too as he wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist and pulls him closer. “I know today isn’t much of a holiday, but do you have to do any work?”

“It’s not a holiday at all.” Castiel drops his head to rest on Dean’s shoulder, tucking his face against the side of his neck. “But yes, I do. There’s some recordings to transcribe, and I really should edit at least one chapter today if I want to finish the manuscript by the deadline.”

There’s a note of disappointment in Dean’s voice as he sighs. “Fine.” And then it’s gone a moment later. “I guess it’ll give me time to prepare.”

That puts Castiel’s nerves a little on edge, making him still against the warm body beneath him. He relishes the skin-on-skin contact, and Dean’s new habit of sleeping shirtless. It helps that Castiel has taken to tracing and kissing the scars within reach when they’re cuddled together; gentle caresses that make Dean melt against him.

No! Don’t let the bare skin distract him!

“Prepare for _what_?”

“Our date tonight!” Dean pulls away quickly, rolling off the bed before Castiel is even fully aware that he’s moved. He stretches as he stands, twisting his body from side to side and distracting Castiel further with all that _skin_ on display – thick thighs peeking out from under the boxer-briefs he wore to bed last night, even foregoing his usual pajama bottoms. “I’m going to take you out.”

It takes a moment for his gaze to stop lingering and the words to actually sink in. The usual flare of panic at the idea of going out in public is a lot smaller than it used to be, but it’s still there and Castiel swallows against the rising lump in his throat. “And what if I don’t want to go out?” He’s better at it – Christmas shopping an experience he doesn’t quite want to relieve yet – but for a date? In his hometown?

“Have a little faith in me, Cas.” Dean puts his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side. “I wouldn’t plan something that you’d be uncomfortable with.”

“I trust you.” And he does, he really, really does. “But don’t do anything too fancy, okay?” Castiel pushes up to sit on his knees so his stern look has more power to it. “And no gifts!” They had agreed on no gifts since it’s barely been a month and a half since they added _official _to their relationship, despite how they were essentially dating for far longer prior to that.

Dean flashes him a nearly blinding grin. “Nothing fancy and no gifts. Got it!” He smiles over his shoulder as his hips sway in a saunter on his walk to the door. “I’m going to hop in the shower. You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

Castiel turns to sit cross-legged on the bed, keeping Dean in sight. “I can’t shower.” He stretches his wings out as he rolls his shoulders. “It would get my wings wet.” And then it would take him ages to dry them afterwards – which is why he usually reserves showering for during his molts when he’s too irritated and itchy to want to do anything else.

“Your loss.” Despite that, Dean still briefly pouts before he ducks out of the room.

It’s not until the sound of the shower has started up in the bathroom that Castiel actually makes a decision on what to do next. A month and a half have passed and he’s kept to his resolution. He’s gotten better. Can’t get anxious over something he’s slowly desensitizing himself to, right? Maybe that’s why Dean sleeps with fewer articles of clothing the longer their relationship persists. How long until he goes to bed fully naked?

The thought of it sends a flare of heat through Castiel’s veins and he closes his eyes against it. Not the time. Or… is it? Dean _is_ naked, just on the other side of that wall, actually. And he invited Castiel to join him, which means he doesn’t mind the idea of them being naked together. Knowing Dean, he’s fully in support of that.

After his decision is made, Castiel gets up and takes a quick detour to his en-suite bathroom to relieve himself. He gathers up his razor and shaving cream, his toothbrush and toothpaste, and his comb and brings them with him. There’s singing already echoing in the bathroom next door by the time he makes it out into the hall.

The singing cuts out when the bathroom door opens. “Sammy, that you?”

“No, it’s me.” Castiel shuts the door behind him. “I thought I would finish getting ready here.”

Dean is silent for a few moments, long enough for Castiel to get started on brushing his teeth. “O-okay. That’s cool. Neat. Great.” He clears his throat. “I’m just – I’ll finish in here. Alone. I guess?”

“Yes, you will.” The words come out a little garbled with the toothbrush in his mouth and foam edging his lips. “And I’ll be out here when you’re done.”

The singing doesn’t pick up again, sadly. It was a nice distraction from thinking about what exactly is happening on the other side of the seascape shower curtain. Castiel fights to keep his eyes on himself in the mirror, instead of looking to see if he can see any shape through the curtain – like Dean using the detachable showerhead to press against his skin and wash the soap out of every nook and cranny.

How is it possible for his mouth to go dry when it’s full of toothpaste?

Dean is still showering by the time Castiel has finished brushing his teeth, shaving down to the light stubble he usually prefers, and styled his hair as best as is possible to style it. He sits on the toilet to finish grooming his wings by fixing ruffled feathers. He could probably stand to groom them properly with oils, but he’ll keep putting it off for as long as he can. Which is to say, until Dean begs to be allowed to do it for him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the water turns off. Castiel stands and takes a towel off the hook. He pushes his hand, and the towel, past the edge of the shower curtain to offer it to Dean; head turned so he won’t be caught trying to peek (which he’s _not_). It all proves for naught when the curtain is pulled back sharply and the towel ignored.

Castiel can’t help looking. Dean is literally _right there_ only a few feet away; naked and wet and his hair dripping water in his eyes and very, very _naked_. He’s flushed, whether from the hot water or otherwise, Castiel isn’t sure, but he winks and takes the towel.

“Thanks.”

The word falls on deaf ears because Castiel is absolutely most definitely staring now. Dean is just so _naked_ and he watches a droplet of water take a trek from his collarbone down the planes of his chest, diverting along the rough paths caused by the scars.

Wherever the droplet was going, it doesn’t get past Dean’s ribs; patted away by the towel as he starts drying himself off. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he tilts his head. “Something wrong, Cas?”

He shakes his head slowly; licking his lips and swallowing thickly because _hng_. Castiel always knew that Dean Winchester would be something to behold when naked, but – _guh_. Dean is paler than normal, from being cooped indoors for the winter. There’s a trail of hair starting below his belly button and leading straight down to –

Castiel jerks his head up to meet Dean’s eyes.

There’s a knowing grin on his lips. “See something you like?”

“I –”

He swallows again and looks away, but anywhere he looks in the bathroom doesn’t hold his attention even slightly. His eyes keep coming back to Dean, though he forces himself not to look at where the ‘V’ of muscles at his hips would normally lead one to look. Thankfully, Dean has the decency to take the towel and wrap it around his hips; tucking the end in to hold it in place.

With some difficulty, Castiel focuses on Dean’s arms. He traces them with his eyes from Dean’s shoulders to his finger tips, and he catches on the many scars crisscrossing the insides of his wrists. They send a chill down Castiel’s spine and he can’t stop himself from stepping forward; reaching out to catch one of Dean’s hands in his so he can rub his thumb over them.

Dean covers his hand; voice low, but soft. “None of these were mine.”

He knows that, but it’s still so hard to see on someone he cares so deeply about. “How many suicidal teens have you saved because you healed faster than you could bleed out?”

“Too many.” Dean’s grip tightens and he pulls Castiel’s hand away, though he doesn’t let go. “And – God, Cas – most of them were kids who presented and were terrified of everything that comes with being a mutant. Their abilities, _The Registry_, what their family and friends would think of them – everything they would _lose_.”

Castiel knows that feeling all too well. He brings Dean’s hand up to his mouth, but turns it to bare the scars on his other wrist; pressing a kiss to them. It’s hard to talk about one of the darkest times of his life, but if there was anyone he would tell it to, it would be Dean.

“I thought about it a few times when my wings were first growing in.” He kisses the scars again, further up this time. “I heard my parents arguing every night about having me registered or what to do, how much they would be giving up if we moved away from _Pontiac_. I was scared, and alone, and I thought that things would be easier for them if I wasn’t there anymore. They wouldn’t have to leave their whole lives behind because of me.”

There’s a hitch in Dean’s breath and then he’s pulling Castiel closer – close enough that he’s bumping into the edge of the tub. He takes Castiel’s hand in both of his and turns it to reveal the smooth skin of his wrist. It’s his turn to flutter kisses across its surface. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

Castiel steps back but keeps a grip on Dean, practically forcing him to step out of the tub and onto the waiting towel on the floor. As soon as he has, Castiel steps in close enough to curl his free arm around Dean’s waist and fold his wings around them. Dean meets him in a kiss, humming softly into it as feathers slide against his back.

Dean’s hands end up on his hips, fingertips digging in and thumbs rubbing circles above the hem of his pajama pants. They burn like brands and Castiel wants more of their touch – all over his body, if he can manage it. He groans low in his throat and pulls Dean in until they’re flush together, the taste of their different brands of toothpaste on their tongues.

There’s still damp clinging to Dean’s skin in places, and Castiel takes great satisfaction in wiping it away. He can’t get enough of running his hands over Dean’s stomach, chest, and sides, marveling in the soft skin all fresh and squeaky clean from his shoulder. He feels every scar, picturing them in his mind because he’s memorized them all from touch alone.

Castiel isn’t sure when they turned, but he’s crowding Dean backwards until he bumps up against the bathroom door. A towel is hanging from one of the hooks over the top of the door and it falls as Dean brushes up against it, falling around his head and shoulders. It’s not enough to distract either of them from their kisses as Dean’s hands spread wide in the small of his back, twitching like they want to travel North into the down around his wings.

A telltale hardness is forming against his thigh and Castiel kisses away from Dean’s mouth to tongue along his jaw. “I thought you dealt with that in the shower.”

“I _did_.” Dean groans, head tilting back and thumping against the door. “But advanced healing powers, remember? My recovery time is fucking _nil_.”

He finds the thudding pulse in Dean’s throat and mouths over it. “You’re the envy of men everywhere.”

Dean laughs, short and more of a huff than anything else, hips rocking forward once before he forces himself to hold still. “Damn right I am.”

That press of an erection against his thigh has Castiel’s heart stuttering in his chest. His usual panic flares brightly in the back of his mind, but it’s a smaller flame than it was the last time he felt just how _aroused_ Dean gets around him. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and ignores it as best he can.

He can do this.

_He can do this_.

With a deep breath and the barest hesitation, Castiel leans back. He bites his lip and looks down between them where the towel is tenting in a _very_ obvious manner. Yes, he can do this.

Castiel takes a deep breath before meeting Dean’s eyes again. “Would –” He stops and swallows thickly. “Would you like some help with that?”

Prior to that moment, Dean had been watching him with a resigned expression, obviously thinking they were going to stop again. His eyebrows go up and his eyes go wide. “Seriously?”

“Mhmm.” Castiel nods as he runs a hand down Dean’s side. The tremble to it is negligible as he hooks his thumb in the edge of the towel.

The skin he finds there is soft and smooth and it makes Dean shiver – goosebumps spreading. Castiel is slower to _wake up_ than Dean is, but there’s definitely a similar reaction happening in his pants. So – So why not do it? He’ll ignore his panic and breathe through it if he has to. Worst case scenario, they have to separate and finish on their own and he’ll owe Dean a _lot_ of apologies.

“Holy shit.” Dean actually shivers, swallowing visibly. “Yes. _Fuck_ yes. I would _love_ some help with this.” He pauses, lip caught between his teeth as he looks down between them too; hope in his voice. “What – uh – what about you?”

Castiel holds his breath and steels himself to do this. He hesitates only once before taking Dean’s hand and guiding it over his crotch. His anxiety spikes minimally because _no one_ has touched him here before, but he can deal with it. Counting his way through it as if it were almost second nature.

Dean curls his fingers slightly and sucks in a sharp breath. He exhales it around one quiet “_Oh_.” when Castiel’s cock twitches at the barely-there touch. To him, it’s like a full press. His eyes flutter shut and he breathes out harshly, like the air is punched from his chest. And then he stops breathing altogether when Dean presses his hand against him more firmly, the heel of his palm rubbing over the front of his pants and there is _no doubt_ that he’s woken up now.

At a loss for anything else to do, and in a very real attempt to stop his anxiety from growing, Castiel makes a bid to distract himself. He’s clumsy at it, and a little too desperate with it, as he finds Dean’s mouth again to lick past his lips. His feathers puff, wings spreading and pressing forward to cage Dean between them. A low hum is muffled by his mouth and –

A knock stops them both.

“Dean, are you done in there?” Sam’s voice comes through the door, making them both wince. “I’d like to get a shower in sometime this morning.”

Swearing under his breath, Dean drops his head to his shoulder. Castiel groans, leaning his head against Dean’s. He hadn’t spared a thought for Sam at all when he decided to come here. In fact, he had assumed that he was sleeping. But that was – God, how long ago was it?

“For an empath, you have some _really_ shitty timing, Sammy!” Dean almost whines as he lifts his head again to thump it against the door.

“Or some excellent timing at reminding you both that other people use that bathroom too.” Sam sounds a little snippy and the door vibrates with another solid knock. “You should probably – and this is just a suggestion – _take it to the bedroom_.”

Castiel goes bright right and it’s his turn to hide his face against Dean’s shoulder. The grip against his back tightens briefly and Dean drives his heel back to kick the door. “Cockblocking little son of a _bitch_ just ruined the mood.”

“Did he?” The words leave Castiel’s lips before he realizes it. He shifts his hips against Dean and, yes, apparently they are both still hard.

Dean’s hands move quickly to his shoulders and shove him back a step. They stare at each other for a moment before Dean is surging forward and away from the door. Castiel stumbles back and then immediately forward again as Dean pulls the door open and drags him out of the bathroom with him. Sam is standing out of the way, his back turned and a hand over his eyes for extra emphasis. Castiel doesn’t even get a chance to feel mortified before he’s practically tossed into the bedroom.

The door slams behind them, quickly followed by the sound of the bathroom door closing. Castiel barely gets a chance to reorient himself before Dean is on him again; burning hands at his hips and those intoxicating lips on his once more. Dean kisses him soundly while pushing him backwards towards the bed, going until Castiel feels the mattress against the backs of his legs.

Before he can topple over, Castiel loops his arms around Dean’s waist and lifts him. It’s almost effortless, which seems to surprise them both as he pivots. He drops Dean on the bed and hopes he doesn’t look as clumsy as he feels as he climbs on after him. There’s nothing elegant about it, and he certainly doesn’t feel sexy as he does it, but the heated look Dean gives him tells him otherwise.

There’s a low thrum of anxiety pulsing away at the back of his mind, but Castiel finds it _very hard_ to focus on it when Dean is pulling him down and kissing the very breath from his lungs. He props himself on his elbows beside Dean’s head and his wings spread out over the bed; their bodies slotting together as they’ve done several times before, but not like this. God, it’s _never _been like this.

Dean kisses him with a purpose that incites fire in his veins. His hips lift and Castiel groans into the kiss, rocking back against it with an experimental jerk. It’s a bit awkward at first, but they manage to find a rhythm that works for them. Dean certainly helps matters as he lifts a leg and hooks it over Castiel’s hip, heel digging into the meat of his backside and drawing him in closer.

A hand fists in Castiel’s hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. Pleasure-pain makes lights dance behind his eyelids and he rocks harder into the burning body beneath him. Dean’s other hand finds its way into his feathers at the base of his wings, which comes as no surprise. It was only a matter of time before he went for it again.

Soon, the kissing becomes just breathing hard against each other’s mouths. It’s too hard to keep it up; too hard to breathe as they move together. Sweat is breaking out hot but cool across his skin and Castiel feels like he’s boiling in the midday sun and not the cold winter light coming through the window. He tilts his head to hide his face against the side of Dean’s throat, positive that it must be bright red.

For being the slower one between them to ‘_wake up_’, Castiel is careening into orgasm a lot faster than he thought he would. His limbs are shaking and there’s half a million things he wants to do. And half of those make that little flame of anxiety flicker just a little brighter.

This is good. This is _enough_. He can handle this and –

“You’re doing _so good_, Cas.” Dean’s voice is a husky whisper in his ear. “You _feel_ so good.” His lips move against the shell of his ear, tongue flicking out to lick along its edge. “You can let go. God, fuck, _please_ let go. Wanna see you come for me _so bad_. Wanna see you fall apart for me.”

The fingers in his feathers find the little nub of one of his oil glands and they press at it, rubbing lightly. It’s like fireworks through Castiel’s body and pushes him over the edge in an unexpected instant. He shudders and gasps, wings drawing in as he tenses; hips twitching through his orgasm and making a mess in his underwear and pajama pants.

Castiel’s body is basically soft wax after that and he melts against Dean, unable to move even if he wanted to. Dean rains kisses everywhere he can reach; his ear, cheek, neck, and shoulder. Those soft praises that helped tip him into oblivion don’t stop either. He whispers them repeatedly and Castiel buries his face into the side of Dean’s neck, hiding there from the sheer embarrassment of it all. He came first, and so _quickly_ at that.

It was quick, wasn’t it? Or maybe it wasn’t. What little he knows about sex has been gleaned from sexual novellas and porn. They always seem to last a lot longer in all of that and – and Dean is still going. His hips are still moving against Castiel’s and his grip has transferred from his wings to his ass, holding him close as he grinds up into him.

Before he can even _think_ about how long it might take Dean to come too, that grip tightens almost painfully. Dean’s head falls back on a gasp, spine arching under him and he goes very, _very_ still. Or, well, the rest of him does. His hips continue to twitch minutely, and Castiel is aware of a warm, wet feeling spreading against the front of his pajamas.

A few moments later, Dean goes just as limp as Castiel. His hands drop away to splay out across the bed. He’s breathing hard and Castiel feels a little bad for basically having all his weight resting on him. He’s not a light person, especially with his wings, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe he should bring his knees in just a bit? Try and take his weight off Dean somewhat.

As he shifts to do that, Dean’s arms come up again to hold him close. “No, don’t go yet.”

Castiel smiles, lazy and soft against the side of his neck. “Okay.”

“That was _great_, Cas.” Dean breathes out, arms loosening as he rubs his fingers into his back.

“Was it?” Doubt seeps in around the edges and Castiel shifts slightly. The longer they lay like this, the more that little spiteful voice in the back of his head has time to make him think otherwise. Oh, God, and he just said – “I mean, it _was_, but –”

Dean hushes him and turns his head to nuzzle his cheek. “Don’t listen to your anxiety. Yes. It was great. Just perfect and _totally_ worth the wait.” He sighs, dreamy and quiet. “Though I could definitely go for another shower now.”

“Me too.” Castiel smiles and drifts a hand along Dean’s side. “I feel sticky.” With sweat and the mess waiting to be dealt with in his pants.

The way Dean laughs has him shaking against his chest. “Jesus, and I just jizzed in your towel too. Sorry about that, buddy.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I’ll forgive you… _this time_.”

Dean snorts once, twice, and loses his grip on himself as he starts laughing outright. It grows in volume, making Castiel bounce with it. When that gets too annoying, he slides off of Dean to one side. There, he can prop himself up on his side and watch as Dean covers his face with one hand while laughing. It feels – it feels _good_. There’s so much affection for Dean sitting right behind his ribs. Castiel knows he must be looking at him with some kind of dopey doe-eyed expression, but he can’t stop it – he doesn’t _want_ to stop it.

Eventually, the laughter does die away. Dean gets his giggles under control and he turns his head to look at him. His eyes are soft and warm, reflecting back at him everything that Castiel is feeling. A flash of surprise is there and gone, replaced with a bright blush.

“We should –” Dean clears his throat and looks away. “We should – uh – probably clean up? Before we have a real problem on our hands.” He starts sitting up, looking distinctly flustered. “And you gotta get started on work, don’t you?”

Perhaps he wasn’t expecting Castiel to be looking at him like he was? Whatever the case, he _does_ have work to do and he’s loath to move. Despite that, Castiel groans and sits up too. “_F-i-i-i-i-i-ine_.”

“Holy shit, you’re so adorable when you whine.”

Castiel grabs a pillow and uses it to briefly attempt to smother Dean with it. The whole thing is a bit weird, since Dean is already upright, but he thinks he gets his point across.

It’s an awkward, waddling shuffle to the bathroom and Castiel plucks at the front of his pajama pants in an attempt to make it feel less gross. He cleans up with a washcloth that goes _directly_ into the laundry hamper because God help him if he’ll think to use it again. Dean wipes down with the towel he was wearing and stands naked in the bedroom as he tosses it into the hamper too. It takes every ounce of Castiel’s willpower to keep his eyes North of Dean’s chest.

While Dean gets dressed, Castiel changes his clothes into something more appropriate for the day. He keeps his back to Dean, well aware that he’s definitely staring at him. Of course he is. Dean has nearly waxed poetic about Castiel’s ass on more than one occasion and it’s only a matter of time until he begs to be allowed to do more than just _touch it_.

After a breakfast together where Sam can’t meet Castiel’s eyes and Castiel can’t look at him either, he sequesters himself in the office to get a head start on his work for the day. He focuses on it entirely, wanting to finish it as early as he can so he can spend more of Valentine’s Day with Dean, and is actually surprised when Sam brings him lunch sometime in the early afternoon. Aside from that meal, the only time Castiel moves from his desk is short bathroom breaks and to pull reference books from his library.

It’s late afternoon by the time all his recordings have been transcribed and that one chapter he wanted to get out of the way has been edited. Or so he thought, going by the sun. When he checks the first clock he comes across after leaving the office, it’s actually almost _evening_. He’s disappointed in himself for having lost most of the day to work, even if it is a Thursday and would be no different if he had to go into an office.

Sam is sitting in the living room, stretched out on the recliner with a laptop sitting on his stomach and a local News station on the TV. His focus is entirely on the laptop, tapping away at it idly. Castiel sneaks a peek at it as he takes the long way into the kitchen to return his dishes from lunch.

The University of Kansas logo is along the top of the screen and it appears to be some kind of chat room. He concludes that Sam must be talking with someone from the university in regards to his academics, and isn’t that just the greatest thing? Castiel smiles to himself as he heads into the kitchen, a sense of pride in Sam sitting high in his chest.

After a quick walkthrough of the house, he realizes that Dean is nowhere to be found.

“Sam?” Castiel walks back into the living room. “Where’s Dean?”

“He went out a few hours ago.” Sam looks away from his chat briefly. “He said something about getting supplies for your big date tonight.”

Castiel goes to the window and looks out into the darkness spreading through the trees. “I told him I didn’t want anything fancy.”

“Dean isn’t much of a fancy guy.” He laughs and the chair creaks as he closes the foot rest. “But he wants it to be special since it’s your first Valentine’s Day together.” There’s a fond grin on Sam’s lips when Castiel turns around again. “He really wants to impress you.”

It’s hard not to blush at that and Castiel crosses his arms as if that can be any kind of defense against it. “He does know that I have nothing to compare him to, right? Dean could literally make me a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner and I would be overjoyed.” Especially since neither one of them should be expecting any kind of gift.

And then something dawns on him that has the bottom of his stomach dropping out and cold dread seeping in. “Oh God. He’s going to so much effort for me and I’m doing _nothing_ for him. I should do something, shouldn’t I?” He turns to look out the window again, suddenly dreading that he might see those headlights cut through the drive. “What could I –”

“I think you already did something about that this morning.” Sam jerks a thumb over his shoulder to gesture up the hall.

He definitely flushes a shade or two darker at the blatant reference. “That doesn’t count.”

“For Dean it would.” Sam shrugs and closes his laptop as he gets to his feet. “He’s also secretly a huge romantic at heart. Let him pamper you, okay? He hasn’t had the chance to do that for someone he cares about in a really long time.”

Castiel purses his lips; wings drawing in tight. It could be argued that Dean pampers him daily. He makes all the meals and always offers to groom his wings for him. He even does the vast majority of the chores as if he were a proper housewife from the Fifties. It’s unfair to Dean and the juxtaposition of what they put into this relationship is now laid out before him and Castiel is _horrified _by it.

He’s come to accept the things Dean does as just _Dean things_ but it’s not _just_ that. Dean is constantly going out of his way to make Castiel’s life easier – to pamper him and care for him. He’s put love and effort into their relationship since almost day one, back when it was just a burgeoning _friendship_, and Castiel has just _coasted_ on it. The least he could have done today was get Dean some damn _flowers_ or – or –

“Whoa, hey!” Sam is suddenly across the living room and holding his shoulders. “Cas, it’s okay.”

“I’m not having an anxiety attack.” Castiel takes a deep breath, and then another, and another. “I’m having a damn _panic attack_ because I’ve let Dean down on a completely ridiculous and pointless day that had zero significance to me before – before _now_.”

Sam softens into an almost amused smile. “Aw, Cas, that’s not the case.”

“But it _is_. What have I done for him? Ever? Dean has always done _everything_ for me.” Their relationship is unbalanced and Castiel can’t believe he’s been so slow to figure that out. He’s been left behind with _everything_ where Dean is concerned. “I have to – I need to do something.”

Castiel brushes past Sam and almost sprints to his office and where he left his cell phone on his desk. He’s very limited given the time constraints and that he can’t leave and go do some emergency shopping – which means he needs to call in some heavy duty back up.

* * *

“Have you talked about what to do about your Dad?” Castiel glances from his phone, to the TV, and then to Sam. There hasn’t been made mention of it since he told the Winchesters a few days ago and it’s a heavy topic that’s been lurking in the background for them.

Sam’s fingers pause on his laptop; open and humming in his lap again. “Uh – no.” He shakes his head. “Dean is still kinda in his angry phase about the whole thing. We’ll end up talking about it eventually, but if I tried to talk about it before he’s ready, he’ll just storm off again.”

That’s good to know. Castiel hasn’t tried to broach the subject himself, and now he knows not to. Yesterday, Dean had been particularly moody and withdrawn. He spent most of the day just staring at the TV, though Castiel had the impression that he wasn’t really watching what was playing. It was almost jarring this morning to find him acting normal, though that could have been just an _act_ so as not to spoil their first Valentine’s Day together.

Castiel’s phone buzzes in his hand and he drops the topic with a nod, turning his attention to the message that just popped up on the screen. Relief floods through him and he exhales the tension from his body, typing back a quick and _very grateful_ reply.

With that well and truly dealt with, Castiel sags against the arm rest. Dean said they’re going on a date, which leads him to believe that they’re going to be leaving the house. That plays an integral part to his plan to sweep Dean off his feet tonight. It’s _his _turn to be pampered.

* * *

Dean comes home within the hour. Dinner time has long passed, but neither Castiel nor Sam has made any effort to get up and make something. Sam did grab a bag of chips and they’ve snacked on that while losing themselves in the TV.

Before Castiel can even get up to greet him, Dean disappears down the hall. He returns a minute later, outfit changed from the more relaxed fit he had put on this morning. Instead of his band-tee and plaid shirt, Dean is wearing a soft gray Henley that accentuates his shape quiet well. He’s wearing his nice jeans now – the ones that have been spared oil stains and holes in the knees.

He steps up in front of Castiel, blocking the TV, and eyes him critically. Castiel glances down at what he’s wearing. It’s a comfortable turtleneck sweater and one of his favourite pairs of sweatpants. If they’re going out, he should probably change his pants, but there can’t be anything wrong with his sweater.

“Come with me.” Dean holds out his hand, expression critical.

Castiel rolls his eyes but allows Dean to pull him to his feet. He keeps the grip on his hands as he leads him down the hall and back to their bedroom. There, Dean picks through the closet and dresser, digging for – Well, Castiel doesn’t really know what. All of his good pants are _right there_ and – Wait, is that a pair of long underwear? What is he going to need those for?

Dean tosses the long underwear onto the bed, following it with a pair of warm slacks and the thickest pair of socks that Castiel owns. “Alright. Change into those.”

Rather than argue or question it, Castiel does as told. Dean ducks out of the room to rustle around in the front hall closet. By the time Castiel joins him, Dean has his thickest winter coat in hand and ushers him into it – even going so far as to wrap a scarf around his neck. Far be it from Castiel to not want to be kept toasty warm when outside, but it’s not even that cold out today. It was in the mid-forties the last he checked.

“You’re going to need this.” Dean hands him a hat before pulling one over his own head, covering his ears. He drapes a scarf around his neck and stuffs a couple pairs of thick mittens into their pockets. “And that about covers it.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I have a strong suspicion that our date involves the outdoors.”

Dean flashes him a bright grin and starts down the stairs to where their warmest boots are waiting. He calls back up the stairs as he starts lacing them up. “Sammy, there’s leftovers in the fridge for you to reheat. Make sure you actually eat a decent supper and we’ll be back later.”

Sam shouts back from the living room, voice distinctly amused; “Have fun you two.”

Castiel waits until they’re alone and getting into the warmed front seat of the Impala to put his curiosity into words. “So, where are we going?” He’s even _more_ intrigued when he notes the cooler wedged between the back seat and the back of the front seat and the blankets folded on the seat itself.

“It’s a surprise.” Dean winks at him and puts the car into reverse, backing away from the garage. “You’re just going to have to wait.”

For someone who never had anything to really look forward to for the majority of his life, Castiel finds himself strangely impatient. He bites his tongue and waits to see where they go. To his surprise, Dean turns off the highway to town, taking a different route to the West and towards _Clinton Lake_. Dean’s hand finds his on the seat between them and he laces their fingers together.

It’s a longer drive than expected as Dean takes the long way around the lake. Eventually he takes the turn off that leads to one of the beaches – according to the signs. At this time of the year, the area is completely deserted, or so he suspects. Castiel has never actually been here before. Any memories he had of going to the beach as a child before he presented are faded with age. He highly doubts that they’re coming here to go _swimming_ in the middle of February.

They turn into a parking lot and Castiel notes that one spot by the trees has been cleared of snow. Is this what Dean has been doing all afternoon? Dean pulls the car into the spot and the headlights light up an honest-to-goodness canvas sheet that has been strung up tightly between two trees. It gives Castiel an inkling of an idea of what Dean has set up for them.

Now the thick clothing makes sense as Dean turns off the car. He unclips his seatbelt and twists around in his seat to kneel and reach into the back. Castiel watches, raising his eyebrows with an amused smile as Dean tucks one of the blankets around him. It’s a good thing he did, because a blast of cold air enters the car when he opens the door to get out with a box he takes from the back seat.

Once outside, he stands up on his tiptoes and appears to put the box on the top of the car. Castiel leans over in his seat, trying to see what he’s doing. Dean steps away from the car with an extension cord in hand and he unravels it as he steps over to the top of the parking stall. There’s an outlet post there and he plugs the cord in.

Clearly he’s getting cold, as Dean rubs his hands together and blows on them before getting into the car again. He huffs and blows on them once more before leaning into the backseat. This time, he returns with a pair of wireless Bluetooth speakers and he places one in each corner of the front window after turning them on. He starts fiddling with his phone and Castiel realizes, with a jolt, what’s going on.

“You created a drive-in theater for our date.”

“Damn right I did!” Dean flashes him a grin and pulls a remote out of his pocket. He points it at the roof of the car and a square of blue light appears on the canvas. After a few moments, it changes to deep black and the Netflix logo appears in the center. “And now you get to choose whatever movie your heart desires.” Dean passes him the phone and turns around again.

Castiel catches his wrist and pulls him in for a brief kiss. “Thank you.”

A blush tints Dean’s cheeks and he bites his lip coyly. “Well, I had to figure out something that kept you out of the public’s eye. Hopefully it doesn’t get _too _cold.”

While Castiel starts scrolling through the available movies, Dean hauls the cooler up onto the back seat and pops it open. He piles everything into Castiel’s lap and settles in next to him, huddled close so they can tuck the blanket around both their legs. The lid of the cooler is placed across their knees to act as a kind of tray for them to balance their food on.

The bags of chips for movie snacks after their meal are set aside, but he unwraps and sets out two thick sandwiches for them. There are also two thermoses of soup that smell absolutely _amazing_ as Dean unscrews the caps and places them on the dashboard where they won’t be accidentally knocked over. Dean also has a third thermos, this one filled with hot chocolate.

Castiel selects the original Ghostbusters movie and they settle in to watch it, the sound coming through the speakers quiet nicely. It’s cozy in the car, and the windows will probably start to fog soon, but neither of them seems to mind. They cuddle closer under the blanket, eating their sandwiches and sharing the thermos of hot chocolate between them. They sip the soup straight from their thermoses. It’s nothing fancy, just a basic chicken noodle, but it’s flavourful. He’ll have to find out where it’s from so he can get Anna to pick up more for him at a later date.

Even after they finish with the soup, they power through the chips, mindlessly snacking while they watch the movie. Every so often, Dean needs to sit forward and use a cloth to wipe the inside of the window as it fogs up.

It’s fairly cold by the time the movie is over; a chill definitely setting in. They’ve pulled the blanket up to their shoulders by then, huddling together under it with their scarves pulled up over their noses. Even though they’re wearing mittens, Dean’s hand is unbearably warm in his; curled together under the blanket between them.

This has been such a nice date, cold notwithstanding, and Castiel is actually reluctant for it to end – even though there’s a surprise of his own that should be waiting for them when they get back. Even though he hates the cold, Castiel gets out to help Dean take down their little makeshift theater. While the car warms up, they fold up the canvas sheet and stow it in the backseat with the projector, speakers, and the empty cooler.

Though it may be a little dangerous, Castiel forgoes his seatbelt for the drive back to the house. Still wrapped in the blanket, he shuffles across the seat to sit against Dean’s side, his head resting on his shoulder. Dean drives in a relaxed slump, his arm thrown over Castiel’s shoulders.

“This was really nice.” He hums, closing his eyes to the passing landscape. “Thank you.”

Dean’s answer is a soft kiss to the top of his head.

When they get to the house, Dean catches his hand before he can get too far from the car. From the back seat, tucked away where Castiel didn’t see it before, Dean comes up with a single white carnation wrapped in a dewy plastic. The tip of its stem is encased in a little plastic tube of water.

He offers it to Castiel with a smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Castiel takes it and pulls Dean in for a kiss, right there in the driveway in the light spilling from the front window. They’re both smiling when they part, and Dean leaves the rest of their stuff in the car as he leads him back inside.

There, resting on the bottom step in a cheap glass vase from the dollar store, is a large bouquet of flowers. Some of them look a little sad and droopy, obviously the last remnants the stores had to buy. A stick is poking out of the flowers with a sparkly heart on the end, marking it for a Valentine’s bouquet if there was ever any doubt of it.

Dean stops in his tracks and stares at them. He lets go of Castiel’s hands and carefully picks up the vase, turning it to look at many of the different varieties of flowers. It’s like a number of different bouquets were shoved together in the one glass vase. And now Castiel owes Anna one _hell_ of a favour.

“Is – is this for me?”

“Yes.” Castiel tugs his scarf off and leans in to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “You gave me the gift of a wonderful date, and I give you the gift of flowers and breakfast in bed tomorrow morning.” It’s not much, but it’s a step in the right direction of starting to pamper Dean like he deserves.

The look Dean turns on him practically _glows_ with happiness. It’s a look that Castiel wants to see on him more often, and he’s going to do his damnedest to ensure it.

Dean kicks off his boots and thunders up the stairs. “Sam! Sammy! Did you see my flowers? I got actual _flowers_!”

Castiel bites his lip in an effort to keep his smile in check. He looks down at the single white carnation in his hands and rubs his thumb against the plastic tube. Would it be too soon for him to tell Dean that he loves him?


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Perunamuusa](https://perunamuusa.tumblr.com/) | [Fanart](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden-fanart) | [Castiel’s House](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187535220618/a-little-teaser-for-burden-posting-to-start) | [Winchester Apartment](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187622013758/another-teaser-for-my-upcoming-fic-burden) | [Castiel’s Home Office](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/187759904768/cass-office-burden)
> 
> If you post fanart on Tumblr, please tag "riseofthefallenone" in the first 5 tags, or hit me up with a link! ♥ I would love to see it! ♥

** _Saturday – February 16th, 2019_ **

Castiel loves these quiet evenings with his family and the Winchesters. Anna is being well behaved tonight, Aunt Amara is coming over to join them for dinner later, and he is soundly trouncing _everyone_ at _Uno_. The satisfaction with his life, the _joy_ he feels being with the people he loves, is bone deep and he wouldn’t change anything if ever given the opportunity.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that Anna, mercurial and loveable Anna, doesn’t give him a run for his money every now and then.

“So…” She starts, looking between her cards and the pile on the table. “It sounded like the two of you had a good Valentine’s Day.”

There’s something about her tone that is just a little… _off_. She’s up to something and Castiel bites the inside of his cheek to keep from calling her out on it. He’s been hard on her during the build up to his relationship with Dean, and now he realizes her pushing was born of frustration. She could see what he had been too blind to notice, and all she wanted was for him to be happy. Now that he is, Anna has to find other outlets for her… Her-ness.

He breathes out slowly to keep himself in check. “We did.”

“Definitely.” Dean chimes in, though he does sound a little duller than he usually would.

Starting Friday morning again, Dean had been just as down in the dumps as he had been on Tuesday. Which means that he was absolutely forcing himself to be upbeat and cheery for their first Valentine’s Day together. While Castiel appreciates the effort that he went to, and the truly wonderful evening they had, he again wishes that he had held off on giving the Winchesters the information about their father.

It hurts to know that there was this dark cloud hovering over Dean’s head all day. Due to Castiel’s work, they actually didn’t spend most of the day together. There is every possibility that Dean was angry and upset the entire time he was setting up for their night out. And Castiel never asked about it, if only because Sam told him not to. If Dean wants to talk about the situation, he’ll bring it up when he’s good and ready.

Unfortunately for Castiel, Anna’s eyes are sharp and she’s fairly intuitive. She looks between the two of them and then to Sam. “Okay.” There’s that _tone_ again. “Well, I’m not an empath so I could be wrong about this, but it seems to me like there are a couple people at this table that have some sticks rammed up their butts.” Her eyes catch Castiel’s attention again and she winks. “And I’m not talking about the _fun_ way either.”

Oh God.

Castiel rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Leave it alone, please. It’s a sensitive topic.”

And the words have no sooner left his mouth before he realizes his crucial mistake. He just _confirmed_ that there’s something going on that Anna isn’t aware of. She’s like a dog with a bone and she’s not going to let this go until she knows everything.

A pout pulls at her bottom lip and Anna looks pleadingly between Sam and Dean. She knows they’re the most likely bet to get the information she wants because Castiel is more or less immune to those puppy eyes after all these years.

To everyone’s surprise, Dean is the first to break. “It’s nothing, Anna.” He sighs and his shoulder sags inwards slightly, as if he’s collapsing in on himself. “We just learned some shit about our dad that… It kinda sucks.”

“Oh no!” She gasps and sits up a little straighter, lowering her cards instead of playing like she’s supposed to be doing to keep the game going. “He’s not – He’s not _dead_, is he?” Her voice drops into a whisper, as if that will somehow take the sting out of such a question.

“No.” Dean’s neutral expression falls into a frown and, soon, he’s all but glowering at his cards. “He’s not dead. He’s doing just fucking _dandy_ with his _new_ family.”

Immediately, Anna realizes how her curiosity just poked the beehive. She winces and shrinks back in her chair. “Oh.”

Castiel sighs and fixes her with an eyebrow raise that should hopefully translate to an _I-told-you-so_ look. “Yes, Anna. _Oh_.”

She ducks her head, properly shamefaced, and throws down a multicoloured card. “Going blue.”

“Yeah, that feels about right.” Sam leans forward to rest his elbows on the table and he tosses a blue three on top of the deck.

Anna chews her bottom lip for a moment and, clearly not having learned her lesson, opens her mouth for another poke at the hive. “What are you going to do about it?” She looks between the Winchesters again. “I mean, are you going to confront him about it?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” Sam tilts his head to prop his cheek against his fist and he glances across the table at Dean. “Some of us aren’t ready to actually _talk_ to other people about the whole thing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Dean lifts his frown from his cards to his brother, and places a yellow three on the pile. “Do you _want_ me to swear and shout and put my fist through the wall? Because that’s what’s gonna happen if you try and make me talk before I’m ready to actually deal with this.”

Sam sits back in his chair and holds his hands up in concession. He’s not going to push the matter anymore than Castiel wants to. And hopefully Anna will get the picture and drop the whole topic too.

Just in case she doesn’t, Castiel puts a hand on Dean’s knee under the table and gives it a comforting squeeze. “Nobody is going to make you do anything you’re not ready for.”

Dean slumps into him with a sigh, tilting his head to rest it against his shoulder. “That’s why you guys are so great.”

Instead of kissing the top of Dean’s head like Castiel is tempted to do, he adds a plus four card to the discard pile. He doesn’t need to waste the card like this, but he feels it necessary. “And that would be punishment for bringing this all up in the first place.

Anna winces, but she says nothing as she picks up four more cards to add to her hand.

* * *

The game is long over and Anna and Sam are currently embroiled in a discussion about whether or not they should watch a movie or start in on a new Netflix series. Castiel, not wanting to be dragged into it, makes the executive decision that helping Dean with dinner in the kitchen is the lesser of two evils. He’s not surprised to find Dean standing morosely over a wok that Castiel most definitely did not own before they started visiting.

However, he does _not_ like that look being on Dean’s face and that needs fixing right away. Dean doesn’t even fight him as he crowds in and urges him into the corner of the cupboards between the sink and the stove top.

Castiel has to tilt his head to catch Dean’s eye. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean breathes out heavily through his nose and sags forward, arms circling his waist and head dropping to his shoulder. “Honestly, Cas, I don’t think I’m even angry about it anymore. I’m just – I’m – I dunno. I’m –” He ends on a shrug.

“Sad?” It seems the most fitting, and certainly how Castiel would feel were he in Dean’s shoes.

He nods, head turning to tuck his face against Castiel’s throat. “Yeah.”

Knowing that Dean is sad and not being able to do anything about it is painful, but Castiel resolves to be there for him if he needs him. He hugs Dean close, stroking his hands up and down his back. “It’s okay to be sad sometimes.”

“I know.” Dean huffs, breath warm across Castiel’s collarbone. “I fucking hate it though.” He lifts his head, shakes it, and tries for a smile; eyebrows lifting. “Hey, what’cha gonna do to chase my sadness away, huh?”

Anything and everything.

However, Castiel has a sneaking suspicion that he knows exactly what Dean wants. He shakes his head and bumps their noses together once before kissing him softly. “We’ll figure something out.”

Dean hums and shifts closer, hips twitching forward. “Oh, yeah?”

God, this just gets easier and easier the more they do it. Castiel steps forward without thinking, slotting a leg between Dean’s as he hums into the next kiss. He opens to the slide of Dean’s tongue and shivers, wings flexing behind him. The hands on his waist move, one of them going up into his feathers and the other down to cup and squeeze his ass; pulling him that little bit closer. Castiel huffs and his fingers find their way into Dean’s hair.

“Hey, when are we – Mother_fudging_ – Why!?”

They jerk apart and Castiel actually backpedals until there’s a few feet between them. Anna is standing in the doorway to the dining room, partially turned away with a hand clamped firmly over her eyes.

“I regret ever supporting this relationship!” She cries, other hand coming up to also slap down over her face. “I take it back! Break up right now so I never have to see you _fondling_ each other where we _cook our food_!”

“They’re doing _what_?!” Sam’s shout comes from the living room, sounding equally scandalized.

While they might be justified in their reactions (God knows he would be fairly mortified himself if he walked in on Anna making out with someone in his kitchen), Castiel is just a _little_ annoyed that they were interrupted. He flushes red and shuffles his feet, wings tucking tight to his back. It feels like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Dean just looks fully annoyed. He crosses his arms and cocks a hip, eyes narrowed. “You got a question for us or something?”

Anna keeps her eyes covered and turns more into the kitchen. “Yeah, just – just wondering when we’re having dinner? And I was going to ask if you needed any help in here, but _clearly_ you don’t.”

“Go sit your ass down.” Dean points sharply at the door, even if she can’t see it.

“Going!” She spins on her heel and marches out of the room almost insultingly quickly.

Castiel shares a short, guilty look with Dean before he decides maybe it would be best that they not pick up where they left off. He puts the whole kitchen between them by going to the fridge and getting a bagged salad from one of the drawers. It’s not a lot of work, but he can prepare this while Dean keeps working on the stir-fry. Hopefully it hasn’t burned while they were distracted.

“Oh, one more thing!” Anna pops back into the kitchen, literally appearing right in the middle of the room and making them both jump in surprise. Her hands are still over her eyes. “Mom said that she’s on her way, but don’t wait for her to eat if it’s ready before then.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Dean sighs and waves his spatula at her. “Now get out.”

“Gone!” She teleports away without another word.

With a sigh, Castiel hangs his head and takes a deep breath. His family is _not_ good for his nerves when Dean is also around.

As if summoned by thought, a heat presses close against his back and a deep rumble of a voice speaks lowly into his ear. “Can we take a rain check on that?” His fingers skitter up from Castiel’s hips to his wings and spread out across them, raking through his feathers.

Shivers skitter across Castiel’s skin and it’s an actual feat of will not to lean back into him. He sucks in a sharp breath when Dean’s hips align with his own, pressing against his backside as Dean crowds as close as he possibly can get with his wings in the way. When they sleep, Castiel has never been _little spoon_. This isn’t a sensation he’s used to and he – well he doesn’t _not_ like it, certainly. It’s different; makes his mouth go dry and he has the insane urge to drop his head back and lean into Dean completely.

“How about it?” Dean’s voice is little more than a husky whisper and it’s making Castiel’s insides _squirm_, eyes fluttering shut. “Rain check?”

Castiel swallows against a rising bout of anxiety and forces himself to nod. The reward for his answer is an open-mouthed kiss to the back of his neck. A fleeting scrape of teeth and slide of tongue before Dean slips away, leaving Castiel weak in the knees.

* * *

** _Sunday – February 17th, 2019_ **

Something hits him hard in the shoulder and Castiel jerks away sharply. Dean is twisted up in the blankets next to him, arms twitching out and legs kicking intermittently. It’s the whimper that echoes in the bedroom that shoves the dregs of sleep from his mind. Castiel pushes upright and scrambles for the light on the bedside table. It floods the room and highlights Dean’s pinched and twisted face.

It’s been so long since he’s had a nightmare and Castiel’s heart clenches, wondering if Dean was thinking about what happened to his mother at some point. Is it because Anna asked about their father? Talking about John Winchester hasn’t given Dean nightmares before; not as far as Castiel knows. He certainly didn’t have a nightmare the night following when he learned what John has been up to all these years.

The blankets are doing a good job of pinning Dean’s legs, but he’s arms are the real danger. Castiel moves into a crouch on the bed, watching and waiting. The arm closest to him flails out and he grabs Dean’s wrist, darting forward to sling himself across Dean’s lap. He ducks an outward twitch of the other arm and snags it out of the air too. With little difficulty, Castiel crosses Dean’s arms over his chest and adjusts to pin his legs better, riding out the writhing, sweaty mess.

Behind him, the door creaks open. “Cas?”

“Nightmare.” He grunts, bucking slightly as Dean squirms under him. “I’ve got him pinned. Do you want to try and wake him?”

Sam doesn’t answer verbally, but the light of the attached bathroom flicks on and is followed by the sound of running water. Sam comes around the side of the bed with a full glass and a towel in hand. He puts them down on the side table and slides a knee onto the bed.

“His emotions run so high when he has a nightmare.” He sighs and reaches out to push the hair off Dean’s forehead. “It’s strong enough to wake me from a dead sleep.”

It only takes a few light taps to Dean’s cheeks to wake him; to bring him gasping back to consciousness. A few tears streak down the sides of his face and he blinks up at them, confused and disoriented for a few moments. Eventually, his body goes lax; the tension bleeding out of him enough for Castiel to feel comfortable with letting him go.

“Sorry.” Dean croaks quietly. He brings his hands to his face, knuckling his eyes and wiping the tears away. “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Castiel leans down, pulling his hands out of the way so he can kiss his forehead – the most he’s willing to do in front of Sam at the moment. “Come, sit up. We have some water for you.”

Dean sniffles miserably, but listens. Castiel moves to sit cross-legged beside him as Dean scoots up the bed to lean against the headboard. Sam hands him the glass and they both watch; concerned but relieved as Dean sips his way through it entirely. He exchanges the glass for the towel and uses it to wipe away the sweat on his brow and back of his neck.

“That sucked.” Dean leaves the towel hanging around his shoulders and leans his head back.

“Was it Mom again?” Sam’s question is low and quiet, but it has Dean flinching.

He looks almost ashamed, eyes focused on his hands in his lap. “Yeah. Little bit different, but mostly the same.” His shoulders curl in and Castiel is unable to resist holding him when he looks so _broken_. He moves to sit next to Dean, putting an arm around his shoulders and guiding him into his side.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Sam whispers lowly, hand squeezing Dean’s knee over the blanket.

“Thanks.” Dean gives him a shaky smile before dropping his head to Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m good, Sammy. You can go back to bed.”

Sam hesitates, looking from Dean to Castiel. His eyebrow quirks in an unvoiced question and Castiel nods at it. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Alright.” Slowly, he stands up again. “If you need me, just call. I can get you anything you need from the kitchen or whatever.”

Dean waves a hand at him and Castiel offers a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

It’s obvious that Sam doesn’t quite want to leave yet. After years of being the one to handle Dean through his nightmares, it seems he’s not yet ready to hand the reins over to Castiel in that regard. That’s fine, though. Taking care of Dean is a big mantle, given how hard he tries to _not_ be a burden on anyone. Castiel is more than happy to take on the task of taking care of him.

With a heavy sigh, Dean sinks down until he can snuggle against Castie’s side, an arm thrown over his lap since he’s still sitting upright. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s alright, Dean.” Castiel runs a hand through his hair, raking his nails against his scalp. “I’d rather that you _did_ wake me, even if you have a nightmare and wake yourself up.”

Dean’s eyes flutter closed. “Thanks, huggybear.”

“Anytime, honey.”

He smiles when Dean goes still. Slowly, Dean turns his head to blink up at him. “You just –” He breaks out in a wide smile. “Aw, lookit you. Using _pet names_ and everything.”

“Only on special occasions.” Careful of his wings, Castiel slides back down and twists onto his side. He gathers Dean to his chest. “Only when I think you need it.”

“You’re the best.” Dean nuzzles into him, tossing his leg over him. “Thank you.”

Castiel presses a kiss into his hair. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare? I’ve found talking about it takes the power away from it.”

“Nah.” Dean shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “It was the same as usual – the fire and mom screaming.” He sighs and turns his face, tucking it downwards against Castiel’s chest. “And dad wasn’t doing anything. Just walked away with Kate and Adam and left the rest of us to burn.”

His chest grows tighter the quieter Dean gets until the end is barely audible. Castiel circles Dean in his arms and holds him even tighter. He doesn’t know what to say, and perhaps there isn’t anything _to_ say. John left them, pure and simple, and it hurts. Of course it does. Dean would have to be dead inside not to feel it.

All Castiel can do is press a kiss to the top of his head and vow that if he ever sees John Winchester in person, he’s going to have some _choice_ words for him. And possibly a well-placed punch.

* * *

This is the second time in too few hours that Castiel wakes up because someone is touching him unexpectedly. At least this time it’s not a punch to the shoulder and, from what he can tell, it’s _much nicer_. There’s a solid thigh pressed between his legs and a hand unmistakably on his ass, kneading gently and guiding him to rock against the leg. He’s hard, almost painfully so, and a little grumpy for being woken from what had been a _very_ good dream – though, this could almost be a continuation of it, somewhat. A few steps back, but not too far off.

He turns his head to muffle a yawn into the pillow, arching his back to stretch out. When he finally chances a peek at Dean. Castiel is met with flushed cheeks and a knowing, roguish grin that fans the fire flickering low in his belly.

When they went to bed last night, Dean opted for nothing but his boxer-briefs. The blanket is thrown back, baring all that gorgeous skin for Castiel’s eyes. If he wasn’t already suffering from morning wood, that alone might be enough to arouse him. At the very least, it’s certainly distracting.

Dean shifts closer, hiking Castiel up a little higher on his leg – close enough that he can feel that he’s hard too. “Good morning, beautiful.” Dean kisses him first on the tip of his nose. His breath smells like toothpaste, and, apparently, he’s already been up and busy this morning.

Castiel grumbles quietly, just a little bit annoyed because it took _forever_ to fall back to sleep after Dean’s nightmare earlier. He curls his back in a stretch, wings pushing out across the bed and only catching slightly on the blanket strewn across it.

With a hum of approval, Dean lifts his head off his pillow; very obviously eyeing his wings. “God, I love your wings. You really should leave them grown out after the molt.”

Ugh, it’s too _early_ to think about his molt. Castiel groans again and leans away, hips staying where they are. He rubs his eyes to squint at Dean in the semi-darkness. “Time?”

“Uh, early?” Dean offers with a smile.

Castiel squints harder. “_Time_.” There’s barely any light coming from under the curtain, which means it’s early and – after the nightmare – there is no logical reason for either of them to be awake right now.

Dean shrugs and averts his eyes. “It’s – like – seven thirty-ish.” He clears his throat. “Maybe?”

Oh God, it’s definitely _too early_. Castiel whines quietly and turns his face into the pillow. “_Why_?”

“Well, funny story.” He coughs again. “Y’see, I got up to go empty the tank and I came back to find you looking all sorts of soft and pretty. I was just going to watch you sleep for a bit until I knocked out again, but _then_ –” And, at that, a wide smile enters his voice. “Then you made just the _sweetest_ little noise, and you must have been having a really good dream, because you were moving just a little against the bed.” His hand squeezes Castiel’s ass again, pulling him back into a gentle rock against his thigh. “And I figured I could give you something _much_ nicer to hump.”

It appears their escapades on Valentine’s Day have broken the dam. Dean is being _a lot_ more sexually overt than he has been previously. Castiel sighs and looks up at him again. “And the reason you’re grabbing my ass is…?”

“That rain check?” Dean sounds hopeful. He pushes his luck again, fingers spreading over Castiel’s backside to get a better grip and _squeeze_.

These pajama pants are fairly loose and Dean’s hand slips a bit with the fabric. A strangled noise of surprise claws out of Castiel’s throat as one of Dean’s fingers pressing in between a place where _fingers don’t usually go_. There are still the layers of his pants and underwear between them, but he can _feel it_.

Immediately, Dean’s hand withdraws to a safe distance at the curve of his hip. “Sorry.” To his credit, he does look apologetic. “I guess that – uh – that was too much?”

Yes, but also no? Castiel takes a deep breath and turns his face into the pillow again, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m not awake enough for this.”

Dean drums his fingers on his hip and hums, thoughtful. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Have you ever fingered yourself, Cas?”

Right then. Apparently, this is the kind of morning they’re having. How can Dean be so perky after such a rough night and terrible nightmare? Castiel wouldn’t be surprised if he snuck some coffee in between then and now, and _that’s_ why he had to brush his teeth. Certainly not because he was hoping to get lucky in some way, shape, or form. Definitely.

Sighing loudly, Castiel pushes his face harder into the pillow to hide the blush he can feel building in his cheeks. “I never got around to it.”

“You should really try it.” Dean hitches his thigh slightly and Castiel has to bite his lip from the spike of pleasure that zips up his spine. He sighs wistfully. “It’s _great_.”

Castiel grumbles nonsense sounds into the pillow, delaying having to deal with anything because he doesn’t know _how_ to do it. His anxiety is thrumming just below the surface, but it’s quieter than usual. Maybe he’s gotten used to Dean’s brazen sexuality, maybe he’s just too tired to _be_ anxious, but – God help him – but it doesn’t actually sound like that bad of an idea right now. It certainly helps that Dean starts guiding him into rutting gently against his thigh again.

The longer it carries on, just dancing along the razor’s edge of _too little_, the more Castiel feels that squirming heat in his belly. He wants more of it – of what, specifically, he’s not sure. But, more importantly, he wants to _come_. His body is wide away and wanting, and the rest of him is still grumpy from being woken so early.

Oh, _what the hell_?

Swearing under his breath, because he can’t believe he’s doing this, Castiel shoves Dean away. He drags himself across the bed back to his side and gropes at the bedside table until he can pull open the bottom drawer. Anna can never know that they’re actually putting to use the supplies she bought him all that time ago. Castiel grabs the first bottle of lube his fingers find and he tosses it onto the bed between them, refusing to look at Dean as he does so.

He closes the drawer and readjusts himself onto his stomach. There’s a nervous lump rising in his throat and he swallows back against it as he kicks away the blanket. Castiel crosses his arms under the pillow and hides his face in it; spreading his legs _just slightly_. Every slight motion has his anxiety notching up a little higher and he takes a few deep breaths, already starting to count in his head to control it.

For a long moment, Dean is silent. He breathes out audibly, slow and soft. “Seriously?”

Castiel’s wings twitch and bunch tight against his back. He refuses to lift his face out of the pillow. “If I don’t like it, you _stop_.”

“Yes, absolutely, of course!” The mattress dips as Dean moves, probably getting up on his knees and grabbing the lube.

Nerves have his heartbeat pounding in his ears. “And – and no putting anything else in.”

“Definitely. Holy fuck.” His voice shakes slightly. “I’ll only do what you want me to do, Cas. I promise.”

A warm hand sweeps over the small of his back and Castiel bites his lip, forcing himself not to flinch from it. He just barely turns his head enough to peek out of the pillow. “Is it going to hurt?”

Dean shakes his head, Castiel hearing it more than seeing it in the dark. “I’ll do my best to make sure that it doesn’t.”

“Should I bathe first?” The thought comes to Castiel suddenly and he pushes up onto his elbows. It’s the first real _fear_ he’s had in the few minutes since he decided to go ahead with this. “What if it’s dirty?” He’d be too mortified to ever let Dean touch him again if that was to happen.

“You took a bath before we went to bed, Cas.” Dean coos quietly, sweeping his hands over Castiel’s back and hips. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fingers hook in the hem of his pants and underwear. Slowly, as if he fully expects to be stopped, Dean pulls them down. Castiel wiggles slightly, not used to letting someone else undress him, let alone being fully naked in someone else’s presence. Thank God for small mercies in that Dean hasn’t asked for them to turn one of the lights on.

Instead of dragging them down to mid-thigh or to his knees, like Castiel expected, Dean actually strips him completely. Those gentle fingers, rough with calluses, trace along the sides of his feet. It tickles slightly, but the touch is fleeting. It moves up the outsides of his legs, thumbs pressing in across the backs of his thighs, until they reach his ass. Dean palms it gently, shifting closer on the bed.

“Fuck, what I wouldn’t do to be able to _see_ this right now.” He groans low in his throat. “You’ve got such a great ass.”

Goddammit. It’s because he thought of it before, isn’t it? He put the thought out into the universe, so of course it had to _happen_. Castiel grumbles to himself and stretches out for the side table again, nearly knocking the lamp over in his attempt to turn it on. With his face hidden in the pillow, he’s not affected by the bright light. Dean does hiss, though, and Castiel takes a slight vindication from it.

A kiss lands on the small of his back, just shy of the swell of his ass. “Thank you.”

The bed shifts again and Dean makes room for himself between Castiel’s legs, forcing his thighs apart even further. His heart wants to crawl up his throat at the soft _pop_ of the cap on the lube being opened. The feeling only gets worse as Dean uses one hand to actually _spread him_.

A soft whistle just barely puffs air across his bare backside. “Jesus, Cas. I’ve always thought you were gorgeous, but I didn’t think you’d be pretty down here too.”

He’s going to combust. Castiel is going to _burst into flame_ before Dean even gets a finger in him because he forgot his boyfriend _talks_. The pet names, the cracking jokes and sass, the animated discussions about his passions, the talking him through panic attacks. Dean has his quiet moments, but he’s more open and freer with the people he cares about. He _talks_ and why did Castiel think that it was going to be any different in the bedroom?

Castiel groans and squirms, hips rolling into the sheets because the longer this takes, the more likely he is to lose his erection and this isn’t going to feel half as good as it could. Dean shushes him softly and a cool hand, slippery with lube, cups his balls. Dean continues making soft, calming noises as he rolls them in his palm, making Castiel’s wings fan out slightly.

The lube is cool, but Dean’s skin is _hot_. He leaves a trail of fire in his wake as he traces a path from Castiel’s sac, up his perineum, and to hole. Dean groans as he circles it with a fingertip. “Cas – _holy fuck_ – You’ve got the kind of ass I’d love to eat for _hours_. Just go to town on you until you’re just _begging_ me for more.”

He squirms, hips lifting to press back into that foreign touch that is both too much and too little all at once. “Do –” Castiel’s mouth is dry and he gasps when that finger presses a little harder, but not hard enough. “Do you _always_ talk this much during sex?”

Dean laughs, a low rumble that Castiel can feel right through to his _bones_. “Don’t try and act like you don’t love my mouth.” He leans down to kiss the curve of one cheek while his fingers continue to tease and circle.

It’s so _weird_ to be wet from the lube in _that_ place, let alone to have someone touching it. Castiel’s feathers shiver and his wings spread out every time Dean presses with the pad of his thumb. His breath hitches and he squirms, trying not to think too hard about what it’s going to be like.

But, and curse him for this, all Dean does is _tease_. He works the rim like he’s going to push in, but he never does. Thank God Castiel is naked, because he’d boil alive if he was wearing clothing right now. For the first time in his life, he’s actually contemplating opening the window during winter just to get some relief with the cool air.

Castiel feels like he’s on display and it’s so embarrassing. He bites his lip and tries to keep still – not to come off as eager. Well, it’s not like he’s actually _eager_, but it doesn’t feel _bad_ and he – he wants this to be over as quickly as they can because he wants to _come_ and have this over with before it _kills him_.

“Where did all those sounds go?” Dean does something with his hands where a thumb is pressed against his hole, but his knuckles are rubbing at his perineum, and it feels _way_ better than it should. “How am I supposed to know I’m doing a good job if you’re not speaking to me, huh?”

“_Dean_ –” His whole body trembles because there’s lightning dancing up his spine and flames in his belly and forget everything he thought before. Castiel is _definitely_ aroused and –

And then Dean moves his hand again and the pressure against his hole is stronger than it was before. There’s a flash of _oh no_ that tingles across the back of his neck and a cold sweat breaks out across his skin because it feels so _weird_ as the thumb breaches him. It doesn’t hurt, thankfully, and it’s not actually _uncomfortable_, per se. But it’s weird. Definitely weird, and new, and Dean eases his thumb out before pushing it back in.

It’s getting really hard to hold still. Castiel grinds his cheek into the pillow and shifts, bringing up one leg to press his knee into the mattress; canting his hips up and back into the touch. His wings arch up and he can _hear_ the way his feathers rustle as they shake.

“You’re doing so well, Cas.” Dean murmurs, voice practically vibrating across his skin. “You’re taking it like a champ and we’ve barely even started. God, you look fucking _amazing_.”

In and out, in and out, _in and out_. A slow press that pops inside, but it’s getting easier and easier and it’s a sudden, though delirious, realization that Castiel wants _more_. It’s so weird to him that this isn’t _enough_. His own sexual experiences are with his hand and even those are few and far between; taken care of quickly because he needs to and not because he wants to. His imagination might go wild during those rare sessions, but here was no desperate need for more – never anything that made him want to move and moan.

The push and pull of that thumb is weird but _so good_. It’s not enough to get him off and he wiggles his hips, thrusting minutely against the bed for _some_ kind of relief. Dean wants to take his time, certainly, but he’s going so _slow_. Things aren’t happening fast enough and Castiel is actually worried that he might start whining for it – _begging_ for it – like some kind of needy thing.

And then a lubed finger is working in next to the thumb and Castiel _keens_ into the pillow. He bites it with his next breath, hoping to muffle any other noise. Sam is just across the hall and – and – _God why does it feel so good_?

Dean withdraws both thumb and finger and there’s a squelch of more lube being squeezed from the bottle. Castiel tries not to tense up with anticipation; tries to keep himself relaxed because it will _hurt_ if he’s too tense.

“Alright, I’m going to use two fingers now.” Dean pets at the small of his back with his free hand. “That okay? Can I continue?”

A desperate ‘_please_’ is trapped at the back of his throat. Castiel swallows it and nods repeatedly, waiting for that – _There it is_. First one finger, and then the second. They twist and turn, rubbing shallowly at his insides before starting the in-and-out pattern again, pushing deeper every time.

The first actual _sting_ that draws a whimper out of him is when Dean starts spreading his fingers. It’s not too bad, but it definitely walks the razor edge of pleasure and pain. Dean leans over him, raining kisses along his spine as he works. Push, rub, spread. Rub, push, spread. Repeat, repeat, repeat until Castiel’s brain is mush and the fire licking through his veins is making it melt out his ears.

Never, in a million years, did he think it would feel this good. Castiel assumed that everything he’s watched has been exaggerated and fake but this is making him doubt himself. And – as scary as it may be to think – this could get _better_. But how? More fingers? Dean’s dick? Oh, no. Just thinking that sends a spike of anxiety through him that almost ruins everything. Not that he understands why _that_ would freak him out more than simple fingers, or –

It’s like a light bulb goes off in his brain.

Dean mentioned eating him out. Rolling that thought around in his brain, for some Godforsaken reason, doesn’t make him want to hurl himself off the bed and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day. Would that really be better? Would that be enough to get him off? Castiel is long past desperate and Dean is going so damn _slow_.

He gasps for cool air as he turns his head out of the pillow. “_Dean_ –”

“I’m here, Cas.” Dean’s breath is in the small of his back, followed by open mouthed kisses. “What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“You – you could – um –” Castiel groans as Dean stops. “_Don’t _–!”

But of course he doesn’t start up again. Dean just hums and waits, fingers pushed deep and completely ignoring how Castiel wiggles his hips to try and get him to keep going. The noise in his throat is nearly a whine and he chokes on it before finding his phone.

“You could – could try that – that –”

And people let him edit _books_? Jesus Christ.

Dean’s voice is almost singsong when he speaks again; “Try _what_?”

Castiel is going to throttle him after this. “That – What you mentioned earlier?”

“Yeah?” He can practically _feel_ the smile against his skin. “You want me to eat you out for _hours_ until you’re begging me to get you off?”

No one has the right to sound that damn _sexy_. Especially not Dean, because it _does_ things to Castiel that are unacceptable and he wants to _die_.

He squirms again and hunches his shoulders. “Not the _hours_ bit. I just – I want to know if –” Use your damn words, Castiel! “If It can get any better than – than _this_.”

Dean hums and there’s actually a scrape of teeth over the curve of one cheek. “Is this good?”

“_Yes_.” Castiel muffles a moan into the pillow again. “It’s not _enough_.”

“Alright then.” Dean pulls away entirely, including taking his fingers with him. “Get up on your knees and keep your shoulders down. I’ll do the rest.”

To his great surprise, Castiel’s legs are shaky and weak as he draws them up under him. He wobbles up onto them, shoulders down as he clutches the pillow with a death grip. Dean nudges his legs a little wider, though not by much. His hands are dry again as they start massaging his ass again.

Castiel bites his lip and braces himself for what comes next when thumbs hook in his skin and pull his cheeks apart. Being up on his knees somehow makes this feel _more_ vulnerable than before. He’s on display for Dean – and Dean alone – and that’s a thrill he doesn’t want to think too much about.

The air in the bedroom feels so cool on his heated skin; even more so on his hole now that Dean has it fully exposed. Castiel’s breath hitches and he holds it as Dean blows against it, and he can’t stop himself actually _squeaking_ in surprise as he licks a wet strip from his sac to the top of his crack. The sensation is _entirely_ unexpected and he scrabbles to get a hold of himself before anything else can be done.

Dean hums, pleased with himself, and repeats the teasing with the tip of his tongue. It’s not half as long as his fingers, but the feeling of it pushing in is completely different. It’s wet and wiggles and swirls and Castiel shudders at the feeling; a low moan deep in his throat. Dean’s face is pressed so close and so much is happening – licking, twirling, lapping, even the occasional suck (why in God’s name does that feel _good_?!), and everything is wet and slick and –

And Castiel cannot, for the life of him, _shut up_. His brain has well and truly gone offline and he’s rocking back against that tongue. It’s doing _miraculous_ things and he’s so hard – precome dripping in copious amounts to the bedding between his knees. He’s dying. The only thing that could explain how he’s feeling right now is that he’s _dying_. Dean is taking him apart with his tongue –

Castiel cries out, trembling from head to toe when a finger pushes in alongside that tongue. A hand wraps around his cock, fingers spit-slick and all it takes is one quick stroke. He comes with another cry, this one muffled into the pillow, shaking almost violently as his hips jerk into Dean’s fist until he’s spent.

With a sigh, Castiel sags to the side. Dean catches his hips and gently lowers him to the bed. The mattress dips and groans as he gets up. It’s only a moment that he’s gone, and then he’s back with a wet cloth. Castiel didn’t even hear the faucet run; his rapid heartbeat the only sound thundering in his ears and stars still dancing in his eyes. Dean carefully, gently, manoeuvres his legs and softening cock to clean him up; wiping away the spit and the lube.

For someone who doesn’t like being unclothed most of the time because of his scars, Dean is surprisingly comfortable with other people’s naked bodies. Castiel doesn’t even want to _touch_ on those thoughts. It only means thinking about the people that Dean has been with and that… He’s not a jealous person, but it makes his stomach turn to think about Dean touching someone else the way he touches him.

It takes a while before Castiel is able to find his tongue. “G-give me a minute.” He closes his eyes and struggles to even his breaths. “I’ll – uh – I’ll return the favour. Somehow.”

“Well, if you’re up for suggestions…” Dean climbs back onto the bed and settles on his knees next to him. “I have one.”

Castiel cracks his eyes open, and the first thing he sees the outline of Dean’s erection in underwear. There’s a bit of a damp spot formed at the head of it. Is it a blowjob? He’s honestly not sure if he could carry one of those out right now, especially as he’s still trying to catch his breath.

Dean rubs his hands along Castiel’s thigh, thump sweeping across the skin. “Do you have an idea of what _intercrural_ is?”

“No?” He’s never heard of it before.

“It’s – Well, it’s –” Almost as if he’s nervous, Dean shifts and clears his throat. “It’s when you lube up the thighs, hold them tight, and your partner fucks ‘em.”

Wait. What? Did he – No, he couldn’t have possibly heard that correction. Castiel turns his head to blink up at him. “You want… to fuck… my thighs?”

“Dude, have you ever _seen_ your thighs?” To emphasise his point, Dean squeezes where his hand is currently resting. “They’re awesome for a guy who rarely goes outside.”

There’s a good reason for that. “We have a home gym in the basement.”

“I know. We’ve used it to work out before.” Dean taps him on the nose with his other hand. “Or did I blow your mind so much that you’ve lost some key memories there, huh, sweetheart?”

Castiel sighs heavily. His orgasm is fading away and being replaced with a bone deep exhaustion. He wants to do something for Dean in return, but he’s so _tired_; exacerbated by the few hours of sleep he lost because of Dean’s nightmare. Doing it Dean’s way would mean he doesn’t really have to do anything, right?

“I can’t be on my back.” He knuckles at his eyes and stifles a yawn. “And I don’t think I have the energy to stay on my knees again.” In fact, his legs still feel like jelly and he can actually _feel_ his hole twitching with the phantom feeling of Dean’s tongue still pressed against it.

“Not a problem!”

Dean grins brightly and he manoeuvres Castiel to twist at the hips just slightly. It’s not entirely comfortable, but he doesn’t imagine that this is going to take very long. He’s still on his side, mostly, which keeps the weight off the joints of his wings. His legs can’t be lifted very far, but it should be enough for Dean, hopefully.

With a little shuffling, Dean pushes his underwear down and presses up close enough that Castiel can feel the hard, hot line of him against his skin. Dean squirts a bit of lube into his hand and strokes himself a few times to spread it – the sound of it incredibly lewd. He picks Castiel’s legs up with his other arm, guiding both to wrap around his waist and then curling his arm over them, holding them tightly together. Castiel bites his bottom lip, watching from under his lashes as Dean lines up and slowly pushes between them.

He flashes a bright grin at him. “See? You don’t even have to tense your legs or anything. I’ll do all the work for you.”

“And you promise not to put it anywhere else?”

“Of course not.” Dean rocks his hips slightly, sliding between his thighs. “I’m not going to do a damn thing you don’t give me explicit consent to do.”

Castiel sighs and waves his hand. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Fuck _yes_.” As soon as he has permission, Dean starts thrusting in earnest. His eyelids flutter closed, head tilting back, and he bites his lip over a groan. “You were _so sexy_ taking my fingers and tongue. I’m not going to last long. _Fuck_, I nearly lost it to the noises you were making – _so good_.”

The praise makes his stomach flip and a flush rise in his cheeks. Castiel closes his eyes and drapes an arm over his face to try and hide it.

“You’re so cute when you play shy, Cas.”

Dean grunts, voice barely audible over the sharp slap of skin against skin. Every thrust jolts through his body. It feels weirdly good and, if he were able to get hard again so soon, Castiel thinks that he might. It doesn’t help that sometimes Dean angles his hips just a bit to rub against his balls and perineum every so often. He kind of likes this, strangely enough, and can’t help but wonder if Dean might like it too if their positions were reversed.

It’s a short few moments later when Dean’s rhythm stutters; hips twitching against the backs of Castiel’s thighs. He pumps through it until he must be too sensitive and has to stop. By then, of course, he’s made _quite_ the mess and Castiel will once again need to be cleaned up. Luckily, Dean looks _gorgeous_ and there’s no way he could care about anything else.

How can he think about anything else when Dean is sweaty and flushed, his head thrown back and muscles straining in the lamp light. Castiel licks his lips and squashes the urge to rub up against _all of that_ because – _hng_. Dean really has no reason to be self-conscious about his scars. He’s beautiful and Castiel can’t wait.

Before Dean can even reach for the cloth, he’s sitting up to grab him by the back of the neck. Cleaning be damned, Castiel needs to kiss him _now_. That’s the only thing that was missing from all of this and he doesn’t even care that Dean’s tongue has been in some unsavoury places. The thought doesn’t even occur to him until he’s brushing his teeth a few hours later, but that is neither here nor there.

When they pull apart from the kiss, Dean is all soft smiles and twinkling eyes. “That was okay?”

“I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would.” There’s little point in lying about it now. That kiss probably gave him away.

“_Great_.” Dean practically crawls into his lap in an effort to hug him, off balancing them for nearly a moment before Castiel manages to adjust himself into a better seating position. “I was kinda worried that might’ve been too much for you.”

He shakes his head and tugs Dean into another kiss, more chaste than the last. “It almost was, but I think you blew – or, rather, _licked_ – any anxiety I had away. I didn’t even have the time to _think_ about anything else while you were working.”

Dean hums happily and ducks his head to nuzzle his nose into the side of Castiel’s throat. “That’s – Yeah, that’s good. I just – Y’know, I really wanted to make you feel good. As thanks.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow at the ceiling at the wall. “Thanks for what?”

“Everything.” He shrugs, arms pulling tighter around Castiel’s shoulders. “You’ve been really great this last week with me being a moody dick over Dad. And then how you handled me during the nightmare, and stayed up with me until I fell asleep again.” His voice cracks slightly. “I woke up under your wing this morning and just – Fuck, Cas, it felt like I was going to explode with how much I – I – _y’know_.”

One hand comes up to make a vague gesture, but Castiel gets the message loud and clear.

A wide smile spreads across his face and he tilts his head to rest it against Dean’s. “With how much you love me?”

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice is soft and quiet. _Shy_. “That.”

Castiel presses a kiss to the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder. “I love you too.”

The grip Dean has on him tightens exponentially and, with a twist, he drags him down onto the bed. His face is still hidden, but Castiel can feel the heat coming off of it and the smile tucked into the side of his throat. “Can we just – I’ll clean you in a minute. Just lemme hold you for a bit, okay?”

“Whatever you need, Dean.” Castiel hums and closes his eyes. For Dean, _anything_.

* * *

At some point between when their activities ended and when they get up to clean up and have breakfast, they both manage to drift in and out of a light doze. When they get to the kitchen, there’s a note stuck to the fridge, apparently scribbled in haste.

_I took the Impala for a drive. Text me when you’re done canoodling. – S_

Castiel crumples the paper and tosses it straight into the recycling bin; ears burning as he does so. Dean has the gall to _laugh_ as he gets out his phone and sends an actual message. He had hoped they were quiet enough, or that it was early enough that Sam would sleep through it. But _no_. Apparently they were heard and now Castiel is never going to be able to look Sam in the eye ever again.

The coffee pot has just started brewing when Dean’s phone pings with an incoming message. “Oh, sweet. Sam says we shouldn’t bother making breakfast. He’ll bring us back breakfast burritos.”

Even though he grunts an acknowledgement, Castiel still gets the bread out and puts a few slices in the toaster. He’s _hungry_ and he needs to stave off the appetite they worked up. God knows how long it’s going to be before Sam even gets home. A half hour, most likely.

“It must be hard, being an empath.” Castiel sighs, hip against the counter as he watches the coffee dribble into the pot. “Even when it’s all good feelings.”

“Yeah, especially when you catch him by surprise with it.” Dean puts the pan away that he’d taken out before Sam’s message came in. “He usually likes to make himself scarce whenever I get my groove on.”

Castiel looks at him from across the kitchen; arms crossed and brows raised. “And do you get your _groove on_ fairly often?”

“You already know the answer to that.” Dean shoots him a devilish smile that fits him far too well. “And I suspect you just want me to say it again because you like hearing how bad I had it for you.”

Ah, he’s been caught. Castiel looks away again. “And I suppose your private showers don’t count?”

“Nah, Sammy just tunes those out.” He crosses the kitchen to stand with him by the coffee and toaster. “It’s harder for him to block when it’s _two_ people grooving.” Even though he drinks his coffee black, Dean still gets the creamer from the fridge and the sugar from the cupboard. “He’s pretty damn lucky that I’ve toned it _way_ down for you.”

That does make Castiel feel a little glow of gratitude, both for getting his preferred coffee mix-ins and that Dean is so considerate to him. He rewards his thoughtfulness with a kiss on the cheek. “And what would it be like if you _weren’t_ toning it down?”

Dean hums and leans back against the counter, arms crossed as he stares off across the kitchen in thought. “Oh, I dunno. We’d probably be fucking at _least_ once a day. More if you’re capable of keeping up with me.”

Castiel’s wings spread in alarm and he even takes a shocked step back. That’s _so much sex_. How can one even – Why would they want – He can’t even _imagine_ – “What are you? The Energizer Bunny of sex?”

The slanted grin Dean tilts his way is lascivious and _wicked_. “This healing factor of mine has its perks. And, what can I say? I really like sex.”

The coffee maker beeps as the pot finishes brewing and Castiel doesn’t wait for the last drops before he pours them both mugs of coffee. His ears feel warm as he mulls over what Dean just told him as he mixes in the sugar and cream. After a sip to test the temperature, and immediately regretting it because _ow, hot! _he turns to Dean again.

“I figured you liked sex, but once a day seems a bit… much to me.” Castiel mimics Dean by turning to lean back against the edge of the cupboard. “I’m afraid to say, but we have _vastly_ different sex drives.” He blows on his coffee before glancing at Dean. “But just because I might not be aroused as easily or as often as you doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be willing to help if you needed it.”

Dean had been in the midst of taking a sip of his coffee and he splutters, coughing for a moment before turning to him with wide eyes. “Wait, really? What? You mean –”

“It means that I don’t have to be hard to give you a hand job, or let you use my thighs again.” He takes another cautious sip of his coffee, finding the temperature a little more bearable. “I might even be willing to learn how to give a blow job soon – which is what I thought you were going to ask for before you broke out the whole _intercrural _thing.”

“But –” Dean stares at him, brows drawn together in a hint of a frown. “But that’s not going to be any fun for you.”

Castiel shrugs and smiles at him over the lip of his mug. “I don’t mind. I like seeing you get off. I doubt I’ll need to get off too to be able to enjoy that.”

“O-okay.” Dean blinks at him, apparently having a bit of trouble wrapping his mind around that. Given how much he seems to enjoy pampering Castiel and taking care of him, that probably extends to the bedroom as well and his whole world view regarding their relationship might have just been spun on its axis for him.

It’s a little amusing to watch the gears turning, though Castiel isn’t expecting Dean to suddenly go stock still and his eyes go wide. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“_We skipped blow jobs_.”

Castiel barely manages to keep the amused smile at bay. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that we went straight from dry humping to _eating you out._ We bypassed blow jobs entirely.” Dean actually looks stricken by this. “Hand jobs too. God _dammit_, I can’t believe I haven’t had your hands on me yet!”

The outburst almost has Castiel choking on his next sip of coffee. He snorts a laugh and has to put the mug down for fear of spilling it everywhere. “That’s fine, Dean. It just means that you can teach me how to give one later.”

A funny kind of light comes on in Dean’s eyes and he straightens up; almost too eager for it not to be a little suspicious. “Can we do it in the backseat of the Impala?” At the stare he gets in answer, Dean shrugs and tries to relax into nonchalance. “It might just be the horny teenager in me, but there’s something magical about getting up to naughty things in the backseat of a car. Especially the backseat of _my_ car. It’s the perfect setting to learn how to give your first blowjob.”

Castiel can’t help narrowing his eyes, though mostly in playfulness. “How many people have you taken to the backseat of your car, Dean?” He doesn’t _actually_ want to know the answer, and hopefully Dean knows better than to give one.

There’s a brief pause before Dean brings his coffee to his lips and turns away. “So, hey, when is Amara coming by next? She said she likes Italian and I found this [Ham Tetrazzini recipe](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/11894/ham-tetrazzini/) that I’d love to give a try. It’s pretty simple and –”

He launches into an explanation of what the recipe entails. All Castiel can do is roll his eyes and smile. Most of the time he’s not a jealous person, and he’s definitely well aware that Dean had a very active sex life before they met. But some small animal hindbrain part of him _hates_ the idea of hearing about it. Maybe one day he’ll be okay to sit down and talk about Dean’s past lovers, but today is not that day.

“I believe Auntie and Anna are both supposed to be coming over in the next few days.” Castiel shrugs and takes his coffee to the living room, which will be a much more comfortable place to wait for Sam. “I gave them both some money last month to buy me some new clothes, and they should be about done with fixing the shirts for my wings.”

“I kinda figured they were the ones who did it for you.” Dean drops onto the couch next to him, careful not to spill his coffee. “I’ve been through just about everything you own and I haven’t seen a sewing machine yet.”

What a snoop! Castiel tsks at him and shakes his head. “I used to do it myself, because my parents taught me how, but my sewing machine broke a few years ago. I haven’t bothered replacing it yet, and Anna wanted to practice her sewing while being more helpful to me, so she took over altering them.”

“Aw, that was nice of her.”

Their light conversation carries them right through to when Sam comes back with breakfast, which is great because Castiel forgot about the toast he made. Dean can be _very _distracting – which he proves again later that evening when he takes Castiel for a little drive.

If they come home looking a little more ruffled than when they left, well, that’s none of Sam’s business.

* * *

** _Wednesday – February 20th, 2019_ **

Lunch is halfway eaten and Castiel is dreading going back to work. He chose to eat lunch out here because he was in desperate need of a break after having struggled all morning through transcribing a recording for a _mumbler_ of a Doctor. Would it kill some of them to _enunciate_? Lord!

Dean has polishes off one of the two wraps on his plate, but he hasn’t yet picked up the second. That’s a big weird for him and Castiel watches him closely, chewing slowly as he waits. When a full two minutes tick by, he clears his throat.

“Something on your mind, Dean?”

He hesitates before pushing the plate away to the side. “Yeah.” When he lifts his head, he’s focused on Sam. “I have Kate Milligan’s phone number.”

Sam’s head popped up, a piece of chicken coming free from his wrap and hanging from his lips. It drops to his plate when he opens his mouth to speak. “Frank?”

The name sounds familiar, but Castiel can’t place it. That’s not the point. There’s a much more pressing question to ask. “What are you going to do with it?”

Dean shrugs and rocks to the side to get his phone out of his back pocket. “I’m going to call it and ask to speak to Dad.”

“What –” Sam pauses to wipe the back of his hand over his mouth and puts his wrap down. “What if he’s not there?”

“Then I’ll leave a message.” He swipes to unlock the phone and Castiel watches from over his shoulder as he opens a text message conversation with an unnamed number. No other messages are in the conversation except for an incoming message with a phone number in it.

Sam shifts in his seat and leans forward. “What if he doesn’t return it? He hasn’t returned one before.”

“That’s because we’ve been calling _his_ cell and he knows it’s us.” Dean taps the number and his phone opens it in the calling app. “I bet he’ll return a call made to the home phone.”

Castiel puts a hand on his arm, stopping him from actually dialing. “Is that a good idea, Dean?”

A long moment passes before Dean nods and taps the phone again. “I just want to talk to him.” He immediately puts the call on speaker and moves his phone out to the middle of the table between him and Sam.

They all seem to hold their breath as the line rings. When it’s picked up, a soft, distinctly female, voice answers. “_Hello_?”

Dean grips the edge of the table and leans forward. “Hi, is John home?”

“_Oh, just a moment_.” There’s a rustle and a distant call of their father’s name. Dean goes tense at it and Castiel squeezes his arm where his hand still rests.

After a few moments, there’s a rustle on the end of the line. This time, a deep voice is the one that speaks. “_One moment._” And the phone must have been pulled away because it sounds distant again. “_See ya, honey!_” There’s a pause and then the voice is clear again. “_This is John_.”

“Hi, Dad.” Dean’s face has gone red and there’s a bite in his words.

His greeting is met with silence, and then a low breath that doesn’t quite sound like a sigh. “_Dean_?”

Sam leans forward a little more. “I’m here too.”

“And Cas.” Dean adds, glancing at Castiel with a tight smile – grateful, but devoid of any of the more joyful emotions in the spectrum.

“_Who’s Cas_?” John sounds confused, and of course he would be. There’s more than just Castiel’s involvement in their life that he’s missed over the last several years.

There’s only the slightest of hesitations before Dean answers; “He’s my emotional support _boyfriend_.” He stresses the word, eyes hard as he stares at the phone.

“Hello.” Castiel feels it necessary to add his voice to the conversation, just so John actually knows that he’s here.

“_Uh_ –” John sounds – Well, not _confused_, but Castiel can’t really place it. He suspects that Dean’s father wasn’t expecting him to announce so suddenly that he had a _boy_friend, of all things to start with after all these years. “_Hi_.”

“Yeah.” Dean uncurls one hand from the table to drop it to Castiel’s knee. “Turns out you miss a lot when you’re MIA for – How long has it been?”

John sighs again. “_Eleven years, give or take_.”

The hand on his knee squeezes tightly, but not painfully, and Dean closes his eyes. “Yeah.”

Sam looks grim and he looks up at Dean before down at the phone. “Why don’t we get down to the nitty gritty here? Save us a lot of yelling and heartache. We only really have one question for you.”

“_Let me guess_.” He sounds resigned, and Castiel wonders if that feels as validating for Dean and Sam as it does for him. John can’t run anymore. “_Why_?”

“And _how_.” Dean’s other hand drops to grip his own leg, but Castiel still sees how it shakes. He still sees how Dean’s face goes stormy; blotching red over his cheeks. “Y’know, like _how_ the _fuck_ could you ditch your own _kids_ like that?”

Sam’s mouth presses into a thin line as he looks at him from across the table. Their lunch is entirely forgotten now and Castiel spreads his wing to curve it around Dean’s shoulders. He’s angry with John on Dean’s behalf, but he needs to keep a clear head through this conversation, because Dean probably won’t. Someone is going to have to keep him on this side of calm, and Castiel is up to the task. The last thing they need for this conversation is to put John on edge – especially if he’s the one Dean got his temper from.

“_I knew you’d catch up to me eventually_.” John sounds like he’s talking more to himself than them. “_And I knew you’d want answers_.”

“Then give them to us.” Sam rubs a hand over his face, and there’s a haunted look in his eyes when he looks at the phone again. “Why were you running from us? Was it something we did?”

Castiel bites his lip and looks down. When he told the Winchesters the information Pam gave him, he didn’t tell them everything else she said. That John was scared and didn’t know how to handle Sam’s pyrokinetic powers, that it was too soon after their mother died. He didn’t want to be the one to confirm Sam’s suspicions and make him feel worse than he already does about the whole thing.

“Why didn’t you just come back to Bobby’s?” Dean’s questions are quiet; spoken evenly, but with a weight to them that would be terrifying if Castiel was in John’s position. “Why didn’t you just pick up the fucking phone like you used to? You didn’t _always_ suck as a dad.”

“_I deserve that_.” At least John is owning his mistakes. Castiel knows almost nothing about him and he still half expected him to argue that he did nothing wrong. “_And I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t have a real answer for you. I have a list of excuses a mile long, but they don’t make up for being a shitty father._”

“Well, why don’t you give us the greatest hits.” Dean’s lip curls in a sneer and his hand trembles on Castiel’s knee. He puts his own hand over it and gives a comforting squeeze.

John is quiet for a long moment, but the line doesn’t click and beep like he hung up on them. Finally, there’s the soft crackle of a sigh. “_Is that really going to change anything_?”

“Not a damn bit, but I’m _dying_ to hear what bullshit you came up with to make yourself feel better about _abandoning your fucking kids_.” Dean’s voice gets louder with every word. “You didn’t even make it back for my _eighteenth birthday_! Hell, you stopped calling before Sammy was even _sixteen_!”

Castiel leans in to press his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. Hopefully the contact will help him calm down. It seems to work, somewhat. Dean’s hand stops shaking so much in his, and the grip on his knee loosens just slightly.

“_I was scared_.” John’s admission comes in a quiet mutter. If he’s even half as proud as Dean, it’s probably hard for him to admit all of this. “_Mary was dead and those few months before Sam presented were – I wasn’t prepared to be a single dad. And then you got your powers, Sam, and I was fucking **terrified**._” Sam closes his eyes and hunches his shoulders at the truth. “_I got you off to Bobby’s as quick as I could so Pam could help you. I –_”

“You thought I might be the reason Mom was dead.” Sam interrupts, quiet and broken, and making Castiel realize that there’s more than one Winchester present that he should be comforting. “I know.”

John breathes out, not quite a sigh and neither a huff. Just a loud exhale. “_Your abilities scared the fuck out of me, Sam. I was already running on empty without Mary, and I didn’t know what I should do. Bobby offered me training and a job, and I took the chance to get away. Figured I could clear my head a bit._”

“And then what?” Dean snaps, sitting forward sharply. “You left and just never looked back?”

“_I came back. I called._” But only for those first few years, from what Castiel has gathered. “_But that following January after I started hunting, I met Kate. It was just supposed to be a one-off kinda thing, but I kept coming through Windom on my way back to you guys and – and being with Kate was like being with Mary again. And then she got pregnant and –_” John pauses again and Castiel knows what comes next is going to sting the worst. “_And it was like I got another chance_.”

Dean takes a harsh, ragged breath. His whole body is shaking and Castiel puts an arm around him, drawing him into his chest. Sam isn’t much better off, but there’s a table between them. Any comfort Castiel can give him will have to come after.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam’s chin dimples and his bottom lip trembles. “Why didn’t you bring us in? We’re your family too.”

“_Guilt, mostly_.” At least John’s being honest. “_I felt like I was betraying you two and Mary’s memory by starting another family, and I just – I couldn’t face you. Either of you. And Kate – Well, her family isn’t as accepting of mutants as ours was._”

Dean goes still and Castiel wonders if he just came to the same conclusion he did. Slowly, he sits upright again, eyes locked on the phone. “Kate doesn’t know that you have other kids. She doesn’t know about us or mom or _anything_, does she?”

“_No_.” John actually sounds apologetic. “_She doesn’t_.”

Sam swallows thickly and rubs at his eyes. “I’m guessing she’s not home right now, is she?”

“_No, she was just heading out when you called. On her way to a PTA meeting_.”

“And what about _Adam_?” Dean actually_ sneers_. Castiel imagines that John having another son probably hurts the worst.

“_He’s at school right now._” John offers the information slowly, as if he might be worried about what Dean would do with it. “_And then he has soccer after._”

Dean closes his eyes, but not before Castiel notes how watery they’ve become. “And is he _normal_?”

John’s voice goes soft and low. “_He is. Mary was the one carrying the mutant gene. We knew there was a chance with the both of you, but we didn’t care. We wanted kids and we were gonna love you no matter what happened_.”

At that, Dean throws his head back with a harsh laugh. “Oh yeah, sure. I believe you. Coz’ you want us and loved us _so much_ that you definitely stuck around after Mom died.”

“_It was a complicated situation, Dean_.” An icy, hard tone enters John’s voice then, and it puts Castiel’s teeth on edge.

“How the _fuck_ is it _complicated_?” Dean is all but shouting now as he leans forward over the table. “You’re our _dad_. You were supposed to stick around and take care of us, teach us how to make our own way in the world. But you fucking _bailed_. Thank God we had Bobby and he stepped in when you stepped the fuck out.”

“_Dean_ –” That’s the reprimanding tone of a disapproving father if ever Castiel has heard, and it makes his feathers _itch_. John has lost the right to use that tone on Dean or Sam.

“Nope, fuck this.” Dean stands up, pushing his chair back. “Don’t worry about us trying to contact you again. You’re off the hook. Enjoy your family and, sincerely, _fuck you_.” He turns, kicking the chair out of the way, and storms off. A few moments later, the front door opens and slams. Castiel hopes that he remembered his boots and coat this time.

Castiel sighs, looking towards the front foyer. “He was willing to accept that you might just have been really busy with hunting. This whole _new family _thing is…”

“He feels betrayed.” Sam finishes for him and slumps back in his chair.

“_I knew he would, and it’s what I was afraid of_.” John just sounds tired now, and Castiel bitterly thinks he deserves it. “_That was part of the reason I found it so hard to keep coming back. I couldn’t face either of you knowing that you didn’t know about Kate and Adam_.”

Sam looks less than impressed when he lifts his head to look at the phone again. “You could have at least _tried_ to explain it to us. Accidents happen. It’s not like you set out to have another family, and both of us were old enough to understand that.”

“_I know_.” John sighs. “_I fucked up, okay? I fucked up and I’m owning it. The only thing I did right for the two of you was leaving you with Bobby and Pam. They’re good people and I knew they’d take good care of you.”_

“Well, you didn’t leave us _entirely_ high and dry.” Sam crosses his arms and glances away, staring out the window into the backyard. “You always sent us a cut of your paychecks. Bobby took rent and stuff from it, but the rest he put into savings for us.”

John actually huffs a little laugh. “_Yeah, I know. I asked him to do that_.”

“It’s a nice little nest egg for us.” A small shadow of a smile crosses Sam’s face. “I’m going to be using that money to go back to school.”

“_Really_?” To his credit, John does sound interested, though it’s probably because he’s desperate for some kind of topic change. “_What are you studying?_”

Sam shifts in his seat, looking first to Castiel and then back at the phone. “I want to go into law with a specialty in mutant rights.”

John whistles, low but impressed. “_Good luck, kid. That’s going to be a tough road._” He pauses, and then clears his throat. “_I don’t think things are ever going to be right between the three of us, and I know that nothing I can do is going to change any of that, but – But you’re still my kids. If – uh – if you find yourself running short on tuition, you can – you can let me know. I’ll help._”

That’s quite the generous offer and Castiel is almost surprised that he made it. Even Sam is taken by surprise, blinking owlishly at the phone. His jaw goes tight for a moment before the tension leaves his body. “Okay. Thank you.”

“_Same goes for Dean. If he wants schooling, I’ll cover him too_.”

“I’d say that I’ll let him know, but I’m pretty sure that’s not something he wants to hear right now.” Sam smiles again, though there’s no amusement in it. “Maybe when he’s a little calmer.”

John laughs again. “_Sounds like a solid plan_.” He sobers up quickly, voice low and quiet. “_And – and would you let him know that I really am sorry? Dean’s a – He could have come here and confronted me right in front of Kate and Adam. God knows he had every right to do that._”

Castiel glances the way Dean left again. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s a good man.” And he believes that with every fiber of his being.

“_I don’t know you, or what kind of man you are, but –_” John hesitates, voice tight. “_Take care of my boys. God knows that I’ve done a shit job of it._”

“Of course.” Castiel turns a smile on Sam. “They’re family to me now and I’ll take care of them as such.”

“_Great_.” John grunts and clears his throat. “_Look, I – I gotta get going_.”

Sam sits up a little straighter. “Right, of course. I –” He purses his lips, honestly looking torn between what to say next. “If Dean – If _we_ ever feel less stung, maybe – Can we call again? Just to catch up? I can’t make any promises, but…”

“_I’m not expecting miracles, Sammy. I don’t deserve them._” John clears his throat again, and Castiel wonders if he’s feeling as emotional about this conversation as Sam looks. “_But – but if you ever need anything, I’ll try not to be as shit of a dad as I’ve been. You guys know the truth now and – and I don’t think it’ll be as hard to pick up when you call._”

“Thanks.” Sam reaches out, hand hovering over the phone. “We’ll – Yeah. Bye.”

“Goodbye.” Castiel reaches over and takes the phone, because Sam can’t seem to actually bring himself to touch it. He hangs up the call, cutting off John’s farewell.

As soon as the phone is silent, Sam slumps back in his seat and roughly runs his hands over his face; pushing them up into his hair. “That went about as well as could be expected. What do you think?”

“I don’t know your father well enough to say if that was good or bad.” Castiel shrugs and stands up. “But I think I should go check on Dean and see if he’s alright.” He pauses and turns to Sam. “Do you need anything? I can offer hugs, or get you something to drink?”

Sam shakes his heady and gives him a tired smile. “I’m fine, thanks. And don’t bother with Dean. I can feel him from here and he’s still pretty angry. Sad too.” He bites his lip and glances towards the front of the house. “Maybe I should be the one to go talk to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He nods and stands up too. “Can you clean up? Maybe we’ll have these for supper, or just as a snack later on.”

“Of course.” Castiel starts gathering their half-eaten meals. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Sam heads off and Castiel desperately wishes he could go with him. He wants to be with Dean and help him, take care of him the same way Dean has always taken care of _him_. But this – This is a brother thing. Castiel will have his time to be there for him later, once they’ve worked things out between themselves.

* * *

The Winchesters don’t come back inside for a long time. Castiel can’t see them when he looks out the front window, or the back windows, or even when he opens the front door. The Impala is still parked by the garage, which Castiel is just waiting on warmer weather to start clearing out. They’re not sitting inside it.

Maybe they went for a walk? Castiel assumes that must be the case. He sends off a quick text message letting them know that he’s here for both of them if they need him, and that he’s going to take a bath – should they get home before he’s done.

He cranks the water temperature up a little higher than normal because he _deserves it_. That was a stressful conversation, even though he was barely a part of it. Castiel soaks in the tub until the water cools off, forcing himself to relax.

By the time the Winchesters do come back, Castiel has relocated to the couch to read. He put on his pajama pants and has given up on work for the day. The house is comfortably warm and he has the feeling that Dean is going to want to cuddle privately in their bedroom when he gets back.

Both Winchesters are fairly quiet when they walk in. Dean comes straight to Castiel and all but faceplants into his lap when he lies down with him. He curls up with his head in Castiel’s lap and sighs heavily, eyes closed. He’s cool to the touch, though warming quickly. It’s difficult, but Castiel manages to angle a wing down to fold over Dean as best as he can; offering what little comfort possible right now.

Dean breathes out slowly and adjusts how he’s lying so he can start carding his fingers through Castiel’s feathers. It’s nice and Castiel drops a hand from his book to pet through Dean’s hair. Sam drops into the recliner, which has unofficially become _his chair_, and stares at the TV. It’s not on or playing anything and neither Winchester makes an effort to grab the remote. Castiel gets the feeling that the rest of today is going to be very quiet.

Eventually, Dean reaches up to tap at the book. Without a word, Castiel lets him take it from his hands and mark the page he was on. Slowly, Dean gets up and stretches. He takes Castiel’s hand and pulls him to his feet. Unsurprisingly, he starts towards the bedroom. Sam doesn’t move, though. His eyes are closed and one might even think that he’s sleeping on the recliner. Castiel knows better, though.

As he suspected, Dean drags him right to the bed. Castiel pulls back the blanket and settles into the bed, waiting as Dean strips down to his underwear. He crawls in under the blanket and immediately cuddles up to Castiel’s chest, searching for emotional comfort through physical touch.

Once upon a time, this was something that he wouldn’t have been able to understand this need. But, during the time they’ve known each other, Castiel has been conditioned into it. Now he gets it; now he craves it when he’s feeling down. Dean has _ruined him_ in the best of ways, and Castiel really wouldn’t have it any other way.

They don’t say a single word as they lie together. One of them moves slightly every now and then to get comfortable, but it’s a comfortable silence. There’s not much that can be said right now anyways. Dean does give the occasional sniffle, but he doesn’t actually cry.

Eventually, Dean’s breathing evens out. Castiel assumes he must’ve drifted off. He breaks the silence with a soft hum and tilts his nose into Dean’s hair. It’s been an emotional day, and he’s proud of Dean for handling it as well as he did.

“I love you.” Castiel keeps the whisper quiet so as not to wake him.

Dean’s breathing hitches and, for the briefest of moments, he goes very still. Castiel smiles, and he can’t help but wonder if he forgot that they’ve said it once before. The arm over his waist tightens, bringing their bodies that little bit closer. Dean presses his face into Castiel’s chest and mumbles something unintelligible into his skin.

Castiel chooses to believe that he said; “_I love you too_.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you’ve read here, please consider checking out [my Tumblr](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com)! FYI the calendar at the top of the page states the next day for update, and the progress bar on the left menu shows how complete the next chapter is. [The fic tag](https://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/burden) will have any posts about delays, etc. ♥


End file.
